REDUX
by Reveni
Summary: Have you ever wondered how people see you? How you see yourself? How your story is told? As seen through different eyes. Hermione and Fleur find themselves and each other albeit, messily. A Potterverse AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Redux **

**Chapter: i - epoch.**

**Disclaimer: **All characters herein belong to JKR -- I'm just temporarily borrowing them.

--

We just touched ground not even a few hours before my friends had burst into my Hostel-room urging me out and about with them to 'explore' the vices of the current city we trolled.

Which to be frank, meant: "What and where are the pubs/clubs/erotica, can we check out?"

I shook that thought from my mind before casting a glance towards two males. It just so happened they were my best friends since the advent of our puberty. As we shuffled along the streets I felt the cold hand of the wind bite across my cheeks; I sucked my breath in through clenched teeth causing the taller of the boys to lob his gaze back at me.

I offered a haphazard smile.

"Cold?"

"Ever observant," I commented lazily.

He brandished his patented grin. It was the kind of smile that normally caused my knees to buckle. Which was only logical that of the pair, in high school Ron Weasley was the one that I had a stint of biblical intimacy with.

But as he goosed and shoved our shorter friend into the nearest concrete wall then called out his victory… I often wonder: _"Did I suffer from mild dementia?" _

"Remind me Ron -- how old are you?" Ron was the a-typical 15 year old stuck in a 23-year body.

His bellowing laughter rumbled through me, "Och, quit usin' 'em granny panties, it's makin' you more of a prude than ever."

After a lacking attempt at kicking his shin I moved to check on Harry. He hadn't bothered to get up from the prone sitting position, he was too busy laughing at the situation after Ron's manhandling. Harry Potter was the group's soft-spoken, but athletic type - who mastered the art of being vulnerable but assertive… if it suited his needs. This was a very subtle form of social engineering.

He even got me to play the role of mother-hen during times like these. To which I never minded… it satisfied my need to be wanted.

I knelt alongside Harry, pushing the veil of his overgrown bangs from his already scarred forehead. He looked at me from behind his bespectacled eyes, broadly grinning.

"How is it?"

"You're still as ugly as ever Harry," I replied matter-of-factly. He laughed and pushed himself onto his feet.

"Just a little strawberry above the scar is all." I added as an afterthought then dusted my jeans off.

_As a side note Ron gave the scar in question to Harry, as well -- via what they termed "a light weekend scrimmage of Footy". (Rugby in Americanese)._

"That hurt, you git." Lopping his arm about my neck, I felt Harry's lips brush in thanks against my temple.

"C'mon grow a lil chest hair - It's just a bitty scratch." Ron quipped. Bringing his massive paws up, he thumped his chest and looked about. "Awright! Which way now, 'Moine?"

"Do I look like a bloody compass?" My fingers laced with Harry's hand hanging off my left shoulder while we continued to trudge forward. Blank-eyed, Ron looked at me expectantly. "Heaven forbid you ever need to maneuver yourself out of a hole… Turn right at the next light - we'll be in view, then."

Sure enough blinding fluorescent bulbs electrified the night-sky. Hot reds and royal purple clashed and tumbled together to form the establishment's name in Neon.

I remember asking the boys if they were serious when I stopped dead in my stead. I knew we were en route to another erotica type club; I hadn't realized it would be to one of the world's leading Burlesque locales. Harry and Ron rattled on about how great it would be and how I can finally put to rest my curiosities.

"What do you mean…. _Curiosities_?" I heard myself demand.

After a few more blurbs of indiscernible sounds, I pinned my gaze on Harry. He _was_ the logical choice for most explanations. But Harry's ears burned a bright pink, as it always did when his nerves were tested to their limitations.

"It's just that…we think… I mean there are instances… which lead us to believe…"

"--You eat rug."

I glared at Ron. "What in the flying crap is _that_ supposed to mean?!"

"'Mione…. Think about it, how can any girl _just_ want to be friends with me after the incredible sex we had?"

"Ron, shut up." Harry jockeyed past him and faced me; I just remember seeing the warmth in his eyes as he said:

"Just listen, Hermione. You're an only child and you've only ever been mates with Ron and I. If you noticed, there are certain things that we share, like disliking mint choco chips…"

"Harry." Annoyance must have seeped onto my features and prompted him to continue.

"…Just saying that we've rubbed off on one another over the years. We've seen you look at girls like how we look at them."

I boggled and reasoned vehemently, "Because they were all morons and I honestly wonder where your minds are at ogling walking breasts with no brains!"

Ron and Harry shared a look. One of those unbelieving glances. The type that screamed, _Keep telling yourself that._

I shifted my eyes from Harry to Ron, "So let me get this straight, you're saying that because bitch about how skanky some girls can be, it makes me a candidate for Lesbian of the year??"

Ron nodded.

"I hope your next conquest chops up your dangly bits. That's DUMB." I shook my head at the two of them announcing crisply, "FYI -- I'm not a lesbian, nor will I have ANY inclinations of the like."

As I began to walk away, Harry scurried to block my path as Ron edged alongside. They both began to regale a story that I had hoped to shove far from my memory. In fact, were it not for them -- I would have been successful.

Ron has a year younger sister, one of the most popular girls that ever graced the halls of our High School. Fun, vivacious… all encompassing. She was the break that I needed to wean me from the boys. I latched on to her almost immediately.

She'd have been my first female best friend.

Somewhere along the line they finished that tale, I'm sure there was a point in there that I needed to It took a moment before I could reply, "She… ?"

"Yeah," answered Harry almost too softly.

I arched a brow coaxing Ron to continue.

"Ginny told us the day after you almost ra--" Harry elbowed Ron, thank God, "…you…uh, tried to snog'er. Reckon that's why you hopped into bed with me when she shot you down. Overcompensation an' all. Not that I minded. 'Sides I'm all for watching you explore your sexuality," he rambled on.

"I wasn't in the right state of mind, thanks to you lot," I snapped adding that it had been graduation night and the two planned on getting me drunk - hence the incident in question; my eyes darted towards Harry. "Was this your idea to drag me here?"

"No no, I mean… I just… You've been… you're not you. Haven't been you for a while; now that we're flying from the parental units' nest this trip, well, you know -- you can, well, be _you_…! You don't have to hide -- especially from us…"

"And this is the mind blowing speech you came up with to be my prompt to "come out"…"

He shrugged helplessly. "You just need a little coaxing. Somewhere deep inside you - you know we're right. We wouldn't be your friends if we didn't try."

Ron, who was lost in a swirl of heady hormone driven lust, was peppered with excitement of entering another 'club' added, "And we'll keep trying till we get you outta that big arsed closet you keep yourself in."

I looked at the two and sincerely believed that they were using me as a scapegoat in order to satisfy their twisted desires. Dismayed at my supposed best friends, I walked brusquely from them muttering under my breath:

"I cannot wait to prove you two wrong."

--

In a huff I tore into the establishment, only to come to a grinding halt at the pompousness of the club's insides. It was purposefully made to look unaffordable for the average being. The floor was the shade of ice, complete with a thin layer of ice-fog that with the slightest disturbance, moved to reveal an ethereal illuminated pathway. Colors of blue and sea green folded into one another to add to the marine effect of the club; marble columns stood sentry in a semi circle, hovering over the precipice of the main 'arena' that was basically a pool never filled. It served as the club's enclosed dance floor. As expected its interior was dimmed to allow for those discreet rendezvous to remain that.

It was no mistake that there was a reason for the pomp and circumstance; _Hush _was an icon for Burlesque Erotica and known for its fetish play-acting; meaning - whatever your fantasy, your playmate for the night will gladly accommodate. A gentleman's club for _the_ gentlemen and -women that delighted in subtle debauchery...

Left to right, there was a sea of bodies peppered with… to my surprise… fully _clothed_ women -- admittedly, exceptionally attractive women -- dressed in attire suited for the Business City Proper. Granted those I didn't see, were probably engaged elsewhere in the pitfall dark corners of the club. I know that both Ron and Harry took any opportunity they could to watch my reactions.

_They weren't about to get one over me…._

As I became acclimated in the dim-lit atmosphere, I noticed that there was a flurry of activity from the crowd. Heads inclined, the din simmered to a murmur… soon voices were over-ridden by a low brim of a song… instantly my eyes were drawn towards the stage.

The sight of the two females at the beginning of their performance captured the attention of the crowd and of course: Ron, Harry… and myself, grudgingly. They were the only act, so it was only logical to be watching…

They moved in choreographed unison to a steady low thrumming tune; hips dipped, shoulders rolled, fingers caroused the other's body, phantom touches - with no gaudy poles, no leather chairs… They were just two women dancing almost tenderly with one another.

One was black haired - Asian, I think - at least that's what I gathered from her almond shaped eyes, full lips… The other… was her polar opposite.

She was platinum haired, styled in retro 40s. A veil of her locks partially covered her face; she moved with grace despite her tall frame. Her face was serene at one moment, then playful the next. She knew how to entrance her audience. A silver eye peered from beneath hooded lids as she curled against her dance partner. Their movements closed that fissure between them. It was a contact that everyone in the audience wanted to see…craved to see. Two bodies, gentle, curving and soft…

Her lips parted as the music heightened in its throbbing beat. It was a mouthed moan; her body shuddered beneath the gossamer gown she wore as it moved in time with the beat. The fabric conformed to her sensual actions, caressing her legs then slipped from them, like water rolling from flesh… As she lifted her gaze once more, the intensity of her eyes ripped a collective inhalation from the crowd.

The lights flicked off.

And when it returned… so did my breathing. I hadn't realized when I ceased feeding my lungs of much-needed oxygen nor that my left hand gripped a nearby metal railing. I felt dizzy. Considering that there was a group of gentlemen lit up like chimneys to the right of me, it was the justification to the headiness.

I'm sure that was it.

"Nice eh? They're the best draw to the club, best act I reckon."

The disjointed voice pulled me from the null and void place I found myself in and witnessed Ron and Harry greet another male with the same machismo fervor as they did to one another. When I moved towards them, the first thing I noticed was the shade of ginger coloring his hair.

No question as to who it was.

Bill Weasley was the eldest of the Weasley boys and the blackest sheep if there ever was one. He was decidedly handsome, sporting a strong jaw and a five-o-clock shadow. Bill's rugged looks had been a gift in this life and the stuff of legend at our school.

I would be a fool if I said that I didn't follow the sheep of girls and share in the swooning over him; in fact I felt as if I _had_ to participate.

When he finally acknowledged me with those sparkling emerald eyes, I half expected my body pool into a pile of puppy-love-goo (he was my so-called first crush).

His mammoth, yet chiseled arms, immediately engulfed me. Bill's stubble served to irritate my skin; I remained in the embrace for as long as I could manage. God… he smelled like earth and liquor. How did I ever think it was an intoxicating smell for a man?

_He was nothing like that dancer._

"It's been some time, Bill. Hi."

"Hermione… Lookin' all grown up. Breakin' hearts are you?"

I laughed as I pecked his cheek. "You're one to talk, Bill."

As we engaged down memory lane, my attention was split from the conversation back towards the now darkened stage. I felt my eyes search its empty expanse. I heard words tumble from my lips, which meant I was responding. What it was I was saying, I had no clue.

Then it had to have happened, in mid-sentence my words faltered. Because at the corner of my eye the shock of silver-fawn appeared. I coughed, hoping that it would cover the mishap in my speech.

"Alright there Hermione…?"

Smiling lopsidedly I replied, "…Just thirsty, Bill."

He nodded, curiously it seemed to me, and took my elbow motioning to the boys, "C'mon, there's an alcove 'ere." Bill guided me towards the aforementioned area, which was tucked away from the main pulse of the establishment. The commotion was reduced slightly. With the boys in tow, Bill shot a look over his shoulder. "Oy, get some service." Of the two, Ron bounded off.

I settled onto the semi circle designed sofa and immediately was engulfed by the luxuriousness of its cushions. It was enough to coax a strangled contented sigh from my throat. Slowly my head lolled backward till it was stopped by the down comfort. Harry and Bill blathered on and on; I occasionally threw in a laugh just to let them know I was alive and listening. But even then my eyes continually shifted about the room… still searching.

"'Mione m'girl, how the hell did these buggers get you t'join them on this inevitable disaster?" Crowed Bill.

"Someone needed to be the sensible one out of the bunch, who else to save them?" I chirruped.

"Hermoine, c'mon! Give us a LITTLE credit, we aren't all that bad…"

I agreed with a nod, "Mm, you're worse."

Bill and Harry laughed. I thought I had just stated fact.

"So then after here, where 'zactly does your backpacking take you lot?"

Harry glanced at me to which I lifted a shoulder and said -- diplomatically:

"To places and experiences that will open our eyes, I hope?"

Bill rubbed his stubbled jawline, "Ahhh, I see I see. Maybe get some experiences sooner than y'think, yeah?"

My gaze lingered on Bill as my mind worked furiously to decipher what he meant.

"Everyone…"

When Ron returned his voice was distant and dismissible, but never the less my fragmented thoughts and wandering eyes ceased...

"...This is our server for t'night --"

As my attention returned to Ron, he was grinning broadly and barely contained his self-propriety while he was introducing the most elegant woman I had ever laid my eyes on. Someone I paled in comparison to. Judging by the lasciviousness of their appraising gazes, she was someone that my male companions were obviously enthralled with.

_Men._

She stepped forward, allowing a slight dip of her head, her lips moved - I recognized her immediately -- the dancer. But as the raucous of the club heightened along with the boys excited gibberish, I strained to hear what she said... inevitably, missing her name no less. I felt a twinge of annoyance at Bill and crew.

The woman held her audience captive instantly. She worked her magic, gliding about the private 'dining' lounge catering to the boys. Touches on Ron's forearm sent him close to an epileptic seizure. I secretly hoped he swallowed his tongue. Harry was no better. She rounded to serve him his cocktail and he all but dribbled his mug's contents onto his shirt. The woman had no qualms in 'helping' to clean him up. Bill -- seemed more interested in playing the role of voyeur. His eyes darted from the woman to me.

My aggravation mounted.

So much that I shifted from my position and pushed my way from the rank pit. I'm sure I stepped on the boys' respective toes I offered my un-felt sorry… then finally stumbled free. But I nearly collided with the woman who tucked herself into me quickly, lending me the balance that I sought.

I muttered my apology. She smiled and leaned forward, letting her deft fingers tame a disobedient lock behind my ear. Her lips came close to grazing my lobe as she spoke.

It was the only way I could have heard her.

"…Is there anything you want?"

I must have pulled back too sharply because she eased her hand over my own; a comforting all too inviting warmth began to spread by her caressive fingertips. Her knowing lips curled into a fleeting smile, almost saying that it's all right.

"Can I get you a drink, m'elle? The least I can do, oui?"

Her voice was honeyed and seductive. She had a slight French lilt, but almost barely detectible. With a congenial smile, I managed to pull my hand back despite my wanting to leave…

_What?_

No…

…I wanted to yank it from her.

"Long Island Iced Tea. A-and the restroom ." I paused to swallow in vain to coat my dried throat, "Where is it?"

Gratefully, she moved away then motioned with a slight gesture of her inclined head towards the opposite end of the spans. With muttered thanks, I left. Feeling that I was far enough from the group I tossed a glance over my shoulder.

The experience of her hands on mine haunted me. They were exceptionally soft. She was taller than I, by half a head. The woman moved about the group effortlessly, unknown to them she had them under her thumb. She could have had them barking in the buff if she wished for it. Somewhere along the line, she paused. Before I knew it, the platinum haired woman casually looked over the mob of darkened figures -- straight to me or past me and then smiled before she decided to return to her duties for the night.

It was like she knew I was watching her…

Bursting into the restroom my body felt corded with pent up energy. I paced for who knows how long wrestling with my thoughts. Then I came to rest at the edge of a marble basin housing one of many chain-linked sinks. With one hand I lifted my tresses about my neck and paused to look at the hand that was grasped by the dancer. Against logic, I exchanged positions of my hands not understanding why I had to retain all semblance of warmth that clung to my skin.

"This is just absolutely crazy! Just what in the hell is flubbin' wrong with me? I can't be… _that_… Not that there's anything wrong with being…_That._ I like boys," I reasoned aloud, "…when they're not stupid - but that's a bloody rarity." I stared at myself and reached back into my memories… all those times I had shared with Ginny Weasley, the friendship, the nights of comfort, and then the sudden need of something more than _just_. "What did she fucking do to me?" I shook my head mirthlessly, "Christ, what did _I_ do to me…"

Whoever else was in the restroom, may've had a good laugh at the psychotic episode I was displaying. The door irritably swung opened and shut with people coming in and leaving… I never noticed that it stopped.

I felt anxious… I was exasperated… I was hot and sweaty - _did they purposely warm the insides of the restooms?? _

I needed…

"Your tea, m'elle Granger?"

From the basin's elongated mirror the Frenchwoman was behind me setting down a silver platter. I loosed my breath slowly, letting my hand slip under the running faucet. I cupped my hand capturing the cold liquid; I lifted what I collected to the nape of my neck and used the rest to mop my face.

I watched her move; the dress was one and the same from her performance not more than a half hour ago. Her arms were toned and licked with a light sheen of her sweat.

"Have we… I mean do I know you?" My voice sounded hoarse.

"Non." She replied quietly coupled with a shake of her head.

"But my last name…"

She chuckled and topped of my apparent drink with a lemon wedge.

"I know it oui…Because I asked your friends." she murmured silkily and edged closer to me. With her hand holding glass of water aloft, she added, "But I do not know _you_, yet."

I laughed, "You think you will?" I took the drink from my hostess with softly uttered gratitude.

She rolled an elegant strapless shoulder indicative of a shrug, "That is… entirely up to you."

Her head canted gently, letting the swath of her mane dust her porcelain hued flesh. My eyes glossed over her form. My GOD, where I lacked in bodily appearance, she apparently excelled. Each breath she took was subtle, sending the swell of her chest upward. She had a strong pulse from what I witnessed as my eyes rested on her swan-like neck. Against my logical wishes to stop, my eyes coursed down her body embedding every roll and dip of her rollercoaster-like form into my head.

Suddenly I seemed more parched than I should have been… I attempted to quell it with the drink in my grasp. I may have downed the majority of the sweet cocktail. But I was still thirsty.

"Do you like?"

I coughed violently sending the gist of what I consumed and didn't make it down my throat, back up and onto her and myself.

_Moron!_

"I-I'm sorry, I…"

All thought processes declined to work. The question didn't seem fair… it was fully loaded and confused me. At this point I was running on pure adrenaline. Clumsily I reached for a towel sending the rest of my drink to the way-side down the gullet of the sink, with the glass careening onto the floor.

"..Let me, I'm sorry… just let me…" I sputtered my plea, now unabashedly trying to dry the affected area on her dress, "God… it'sgoingtostain…I'll pay for the cleaning…Let…"

With my stomach so empty, the liquor took hold all too quickly. It seemed that I stutter stepped backward. The small of my back pressed against the lip of the basin prompting me look up at the dancer. She hovered mere inches from my face -- I wondered why she was so close to me... So close I felt her breath blanketing my countenance. It wasn't until I glanced downward that I realized the hand that had been clutched previously by the woman, was now gripping at her dress. The towel was pooled at our feet.

"…me," I rasped, "Just let me…"

When I finally drew my gaze upward, I was met with cerulean-silver pools searching my own ruddy brown gaze. The closer I looked, the more I witnessed how the silver flecks in her eyes shifted colors - she seemed so familiar to me; her gaze began to settle my confused and frayed nerves. With furrowed brows I questioned her silently. She brandished a hint of a smile I suspected that her smiles were few and far between. As my head inclined I caught her scent - it was a stimulating mix of jasmine and lavender. To my surprise, she eased closer, leaning into me… letting her head dip…

"…do you like?" she repeated her question in a whisper clarifying everything she meant.

Gently, I nosed the tip of her own breathing her in completely -- I felt my head bob in a shallow nod, I was too afraid to speak or even voice my reply. Her eyes never left my own, so I watched her watching me. Timidly I moved forward, my lips briefly stirred against hers. Her lips were tender - if heaven had a taste… she would be its description.

I felt her breath shudder on my skin - it was a sign - I hoped, that she was just as affected as I was. My clutched hand loosened its grip… but this time it trailed upward, coursing along her side, tracing the gentle swell of her right breast. My fingertips crested to her collarbone and furthered up till it finally reached her lips. I needed to burn the memory of her flesh into me with my touch.

My thumb feathered over the corner of her mouth and I watched for any reaction. Her eyes fluttered closed, welcoming my intrusion with a slight kiss coupled with a graze of her teeth against the pad of my thumb. The action enticed a pained whimper quelled at the back of my throat.

I had no resistance left… my tongue eagerly replaced the exploratory digit. I licked a request along the contour of her lower lip. And the permission came in the form of the tip of her tongue surging into my mouth; I embraced the invasion.

I wanted more of her… so I deepened the kiss. My tongue stroked and massaged hers, probing and tasting her earnestly; it was hungry almost a desperate feral craving. Her body pressed against me as my hands tangled into her hair holding her fast to me - She moaned into my mouth. I was drowning and she was the only one keeping me afloat.

Her fingers crawled under my Oxford top burning a trail upward to only stop along the underside of my still covered breasts. Her skin on mine was too much for me to bear. Under whatever lust haze I felt, I maneuvered enough to have pushed the taller woman up against the nearest wall.

I panted, effectively breaking the kiss and desperately said: "…I can't stop."

She looked at me and then laughed softly; the woman dusted her lips along the line of my forehead, "You expect **me** to?" she questioned in a breathless reply. She rested her head on mine and began to pepper her sinful lips over my eyelids, cheeks, then butter-flying about my lips.

But she must have sensed my hesitation, my frustration, and my confusion… As if to relieve me of the burden of choice, she took my hands and placed a kiss upon both my palms. Slowly, she rested one of my hands on her right breast and murmured:

"Touch me 'Ermione…use me…"

The utterance of my name rolling off her tongue so easily milked my arousal. All of the sudden the jeans I wore became immorally painful. My touch was met with a turgid nipple, anxiously straining against her dress. The breath in my lungs left me -- her body and how it reacted under my contact was… exquisite. She was exquisite. My fingers danced over the nipple, teasing it further to prominence even before I cupped and coddled the heavy flesh.

Her hands moved to the waistband of my jeans, tugging me to her -- My hands slid to her waist and worked to hike her dress to rest at the junction of her hip. Her leg followed suit, wrapping about my waist for support. The action caused my leg to coast forward, nestling between her thighs. Her body arched towards me. The woman let loose a throaty growl from her delectable lips. I marveled at the control I could affect onto her… So I surged forth again, pressing mercilessly against her sweltering center. She peeled her head back, then bit down on her lower lip. Before I knew it… her hips were rocking lewdly against my thigh…

The woman pressed her forehead against mine, keeping her lids closed; a slew of words slipped from her lips. They fell in curses in her native tongue. That only unhinged me more… There was an ache that I wasn't familiar with, burning me from the inside-out. I felt like I was sensitive all over. I desperately grappled with the sensations that came with each of her grinding movements brought me. My hand slid along her exposed thigh, ending with my fingers rounding her tender ass-cheek… and crept to the precipice of her barely covered crotch.

She lurched. I felt her slick divide… The heady, musky scent of her sex wafted to my nostrils turned me on even more… She was as wet as I was.

"Like that… o-oui… oh GOD 'Ermione…_fuck_ yes…." She threw her head backward as my hand continued to curl tentatively into her. The other hand busied itself with torturing the woman's left breast. I wanted my lips to feel the quickened pulse beating on her neck…

Her sin-drenched words worked me into a heightened state to where I wanted to hear her cry out louder. The ache of my nether region didn't cease though; the friction brought on by her gyrations and my jeans drew me closer to my first _true _orgasm. My heart pummeled loudly in my ears. I barely had enough time to breathe. I buried my face into the nape of this woman's neck. As I began to babble incoherently, my body seized causing me to freeze in the wake of the intensity.

…But she held me. She steadied me. She murmured softly: "Tres bien, it's okay… I have you…"

It was a blinding white-hot feeling the slowly loosened its hold over me. I didn't want to face her. It was an idiotic feeling -- I felt both completion, but also an impending feeling of loss. Confused, I finally managed to peel myself from her. She reached out, letting her fingers troll down the flat of my stomach only to halt when they reached the lip of my belt buckle.

When my sense of self returned, I groggily asked, "Did…did you?"

She quietly smiled - _God that smile_. "I was close, but I think you needed it more, no?"

"I've never… I mean that was the first," I confessed with a laugh nervously. "Christ you didn't need to do _anything_ to me."

"It is a talent," she teased.

I smiled. "Do you know what's even more talented? You kept your name from me."

She coyly laughed. "It is a dull name, I think."

"You jest - Tell me." I commented. "Please?"

Her eyes shifted towards the main entryway of the restroom. I followed her line of sight. Absently I pulled from the Frenchwoman as the presence of another appeared. It was her dance partner. The Asian barely acknowledged me as she furthered into the room.

"Ça va?" The Asian mrowled.

The Frenchwoman responded with a dulcet, "Bien."

Her dance partner maneuvered closer and I took the subtle hint that it was a private matter. I edged back towards the basins, being careful not to look at the pair. As I heard the footsteps becoming softer, I finally glanced upward. It was a comforting feeling to see her still there. Her gaze locked with mine as she eased the tail of her hair over her shoulder.

Apologetically, she said, "Sorry… Business matters."

I nodded stiffly with realization slowly hitting me. This was after all, a burlesque house and one of the few that hosted explicit services, I should have suspected. My hand slipped into my back pocket lifting my wallet from its safe-haven.

"How much? Or is there a special for initiating a girl?" I felt disgusted.

She flicked her eyes from mine to my hands as I manipulated the billfold. Her features became cool and detached. The question was entirely valid one. She stepped towards me with assured grace, letting her palms press the dress along her body. The woman ran the tip of her tongue along the plump of her lower lip; as she preened herself in front of the mirror she asided softly…

"Like my name…. Out of **your** reach." The Frenchwoman skirted past me, "If there is nothing else… pardonne moi." She left me not long after that.

_As if she had a right to be angry with me?_

I remained in the restroom staring at the swinging door. Burying my face into the net of my palms, I began to run the images of the surrealistic scene that unfolded. Her scent was still prevalent on my fingers. I held my fingers before me… they were visibly still coated with her nectar. Slowly I brought each digit to my lips -- tasting her. It was sticky, thick and sharp. As I swallowed, her essence coated the back of my throat -- I wondered…. If there was a difference were it warm.

But I never found out.

With that in mind and feeling both humiliated and used, I cleaned my hands free of her - straightened myself up then returned to the cluttered scene of the club. As I had expected my companions looked at waiting for a color commentary.

I was surprised that she was in their midst, brandishing that smile, those evocative eyes… perched atop Bill's lap. They were immersed in 'deep' conversation. I suppose she was trying to earn more than her fair share tonight.

It was… a blinding fury, as well as an incomprehensible jealousy. It must have shown. Because before I knew it, I saw Harry standing between my target and me while Ron held me tightly about my waist. I would have liked to think the Long Island had something to do with my impairment. Nonetheless I hurled obscenities with accusations; again I whipped out my wallet and with a fist full of cash, I threw it at her.

Ron and Harry worked to calm me enough to a simmer. Seeing that I had… the woman obviously felt secure enough and eased herself from Bill's lap. She plucked off whatever legal tender managed to cling to her. Delicately she folded the money between her fingers.

"I'm just settling my debt," I started, "Whores need to get paid, right?"

I'm sure anyone in bloody earshot was shocked. If that didn't provide the proper color commentary… I'm not sure what else they required.

There was a slight crease marring her austere brow. Why I felt a pang of guilt, I don't know.

"I am sorry that you feel like this." Her eyes shifted from me to the two boys. "It is time, I think, for you all to leave…" she kept her voice a steady tone even as her gaze returned to catch with mine. I could have sworn her features softened.

"But you…" She dared to let her fingers pull at my lapel, pressing them neatly against my collarbone, then sent those elegant digits working down the course of my buttoned top till they halted once more, familiarly pausing upon my belt-buckle…

"I never want to see here again."

--


	2. ii bill

**Title: **Redux

**Chapter: **bill - ii.

**Disclaimer: **All characters herein are copyright - JKR. I only borrow for a temporary stint

--

The watch that was carelessly hugging my wrist read 10:45pm. This only indicated that the show would be starting soon. But not before I had my ritual visit. I cupped my hand before my face and breathed into palm. The scent I inhaled held a trace of the Mocha I had from a light dinner of ciggies and coffee.

_It covered my cigarette-breath._

Straightening the jacket I wore, I called out, "Don't have all night, I know you're there".

The entryway before me remained sealed. It stayed that way for a good five minutes or so. When the door finally swung open, a pair of almond shaped eyes looked unamused to see me. This was the norm.

"Cho". I said with a grin

"Ass," was her charming reply. Charming only because she delivered it with a snide smile.

But this was a dance we engaged in for as long as we knew one another… which had been quite a long time. Truth told I dated Cho Chang -- and came away with more than my fair share of carnal knowledge. Cho was Hong Kong born, but English through and through -- A very Catty wench. She was a porcelain doll that didn't quite fit her parents' view of 'good girls are these and hence should grow up to be these.'

"And a nice one it is thanks for remembering".

I glanced past Cho and directed my eyes into the welcoming dressing room. It was the run of the mill interior for a showgirl's domain.

"She's expecting me. She in?"

"No".

"Where is she?"

The Asian crossed her arms over her chest; "She died from gangrenous infection brought on by being near you".

I smiled. "Now y'see I know that's not true. Wanna know how I know?"

"Not really".

"--BECAUSE you and I were more than just near each other… You're still kicking".

She sighed, "What can I say? My immune system's superb".

I leaned against the doorframe, letting my gaze rake over the beauteous woman before me. Her eyes were deep brown and met mine in defiance.

"Cho…. You and I have such chemistry, why deny it?"

She smiled. Shifting herself closer Cho duskily said: "You make me laugh, Billy… Chemistry?" She then clucked her tongue on the rough of her mouth and added, "We just _fucked"._

That was the type of pain that hits you in the middle - the so _good it hurt_ type. Ahhh she's a dangerous one. As hard as it was to believe, aside form her dance partner of a year and a half, Ms Chang was one of the nicer girls here.

Eventually Cho gave me wider girth with a push of the door. She turned about sending her partially braided hair quivering against her back. I never minded the view - because it was certainly a sight to behold. Sighing contentedly I followed her half way in. Trivial bric-a-brac of the female variety dressed one wall to the next; this particular area was cornered off for the 'establishment's' top entertainers - the ones that were no longer required to snuff the ground to get TO the top.

They just happened to be Cho and --

She stopped and lobbed a glance over her shoulder with a look that I can only explain as, 'move from that spot and I'll castrate you.' The cutting glance proffered was enough to break my line of thought. So I didn't.

Appeased by my compliance, Cho spirited about and headed towards the only other occupant in the room. After a few moments, the Asian woman waved me in. She passed me on her way out, saying:

"We have a show in a half-hour, show yourself out". Cho's gaze danced towards the innermost alcove of the room, "I'll be right outside if you need me".

After a beat a voice answered tainted slightly by a French lilt, "Merci. But I think I can 'andle everything from here".

Funny thing about Cho, she loved to hate her dance partner but on the same token… Cho couldn't **BE** without her. So… the Asian woman became the unwitting pit bull to the Frenchie. Protected her tooth and nail. It was all a very convoluted relationship.

I rubbed at the stubble that was beginning to color my jaw line following Cho's movements as she left the room.

"She had better be careful…" I mused airily.

A soft reply danced out, "Why?"

"The more she resists -- the more I pursue," I oozed with as much debonair fare I could, then added, "'Lo, gorgeous". I furthered into the room and found my target situated before her bureau. I leaned forth and kissed the top of the most luxuriously kept mane this side of the Atlantic.

"Bonsoir William".

She paused in the midst of applying eye-shadow. From her bureau mirror she speared her immaculate silver-eyed gaze at me and commented, "…You upset her, you know".

"She makes it easy! That an' the fact,"

At this point I couldn't keep myself from resting my hands on the woman's bare shoulders. As expected though, her body tensed,

"I'm one of many jealous bastards that envy her workin' so close to you like that. Anyway -- I think she likes it, me antagonizing her, I mean".

She shook her head and gently shrugged her shoulders; her way of letting me know my hands lingered far longer than she wanted them there for. I relented.

"Je suis de sole…", she murmured. Subtly the Frenchwoman steered the conversation somewhere that didn't acknowledge her unease, "How is everything?"

I took the queue. "Good good. It's a full house out there".

She nodded and proceeded to dust her cheeks ever so lightly with some powder. I never understood these tortuous rituals women put themselves through. SHE above all, didn't need it. Her manicured fingers eased next ever so carefully, over the contours of her lips, smoothing out the light color of some lipstick she applied -- it was hard to stop my body from responding. But I managed to stifle that threatening growl burgeoning from the back of my throat, into a choked cough. Expectedly the Frenchwoman looked at me with concern, I waved her off.

"They're here you know. Saw them walk in, haven't said my 'ellos t'them just yet".

Soon she prompted me with a lift of her hair revealing the sloping, slender curve of her neck; knowing the routine, I automatically opened the velvet box graced precariously at the edge of her dresser. Nestled in its center was a single teardrop shaped pendant - an immaculate piece of jewelry that was gifted to her by a patron. Easing behind her, I looped it about her neck and latched it securely. In quiet, my eyes drew upwards and took the entire portrait reflected from the mirror.

Fleur DeLacour was a rare breed of woman that made it difficult for any one to resist. Even the thought or murmur of her name just tore me to shreds… I think she knew it too.

She dipped her head in thanks.

I often told her that I praise the heavens for letting her come to be… and damned her in the same breath for loving the fairer sex only. She would only ever laugh.

"Nervous?"

"Do I 'ave reason to be?"

"She may not remember you… For one".

Fleur gave a soft chuckle, "I tell you, no? I can be very forgettable".

I snorted at that.

"Besides…" Her fingers briefly wove through the thick of her hair, letting the flaxen strands drape freely over her right eye. She continued, "It was a while ago, I cannot expect more than a nod now".

I nodded, recalling that it had been a year since that first meeting and the younger and emotionally turbulent Hermione Granger garnered the Frenchwoman's interest -- far beyond me to understand. Fleur had just recently arrived then, with barely any money and even more broken English. But her determination trumped both. It was a lucky day that brought her to my doorstep. She had become my fifth flat mate but also my best friend.

I think I fell in love with her from the get go.

Tonight, would be their second. But this _reunion_ is coming at different points in their lives. One knows what she is and what she wants, the other is just finding out -- albeit forcibly.

I married my hands together and motioned towards the mirror, "Ohh… that is _sick…. _She's gonna die".

She looked at me with incomprehension. "Bill… if it looks that badly, you could have warned me. I feel… like… _imbecile..?"_ Her dulcet tone dipped into a low, almost animalistic growl. The sound made me quake where I stood.

I took a breath from my curt chortle then shook my head in affirmative negation, "Figure of speech. It means you look incredible".

"English is too difficult - and yet the rest of the world is expected to adopt this…"

I snapped back to attention.

"Not me! I personally love your tongue… language in your native tongue" I corrected quickly, "every-ruddy-bloody else does 'pparently". I raised my arms as if to wash myself of the comparison.

My eyes remained on her… I felt myself getting swallowed -- soul first; quietly as if she read the turmoil in my gaze, her arms wrapped about my shoulders and neck. Fleur pulled me into a loose embrace lead by her fingers easing into the mess of hair atop my crown and began to massage its scalp. Instinctively, my arms in turn, did the same as they looped about the column of her waist -- I buried my face just under the swell of her breasts.

…I've never known a woman to feel this good.

"You shouldn't have this much power over me". The admission fell from my mouth, sounding like a desperate plea.

There was a drawn silence before she tendered her reply in a whisper, "Then… stop looking at me wishing for more than I can give you… ".

I chuckled dourly. "You give the best rejection speeches, I swear".

We shared an unsteady laugh that was interrupted by a rapid fire knuckling of the door. It creaked open and the head of a young stagehand poked into the room. Immediately, though I didn't want to, I broke myself loose from Fleur. Her body already began rejecting the male-touch. Subconsciously, she pulled away and moved herself towards the stagehand.

"Neville?" She softly addressed the lad.

With the dumbed down smile he gave, I could tell I wasn't the only one chasing a fantasy.

"H-hey Ms. D," with a bob of his mop top head he threw an acknowledgement my way. "Mr. Weasley".

"Nev, c'mon -- Mr. Weasley's m'dad! How many times've we been through this?"

He rubbed the back of his head and offered a semi-stuttered apology. Neville went on to explain that it was getting close to curtain and Cho had been pacing a groove into the plush carpentry just a few feet from the dressing room. As I watched Nev and Fleur idly converse, I could see she had been taken with young Longbottom -- in a sisterly fashion.

Poor kid.

According to Fleur… Neville was an orphan and lacked a certain amount of education. For reasons I felt that didn't need elaboration on, I didn't need to press. So she took it on herself that she and Neville would school together. Not a wonder they're close. I sometimes think the boy's a replacement for something missing in her life. Something I never put a finger on. Or something she would never freely divulge.

They continued on conspiratorially before Neville turned about and took his leave.

"You're gonna break his heart yannow".

"_Alors, _M'sieur Weasley -- you think I break everyone's 'eart". She absently toyed with the pendant about her neck, "You give me too much credit".

"Only where it's due, love, only where it's due".

She rolled her eyes. Fleur always thought there was an underside to my complimenting. I don't blame her.

Then the steady heartbeat of a song's bass began to peel into the room. It was time for the woman to take center stage. I wished her well making her promise that we meet for coffee in the morning.

But morning was still too far away.

--

I wandered into the pulse-pounding atmosphere and was immediately approached by the crux of the girls that worked in the club. They were girls of every flavor, every ethnicity, and each holding their own compelling beauty.

Just unfortunate, I didn't have the cash to supplement the lot.

So delicately I declined their advances -- It was a curse for the Weasley family. Animal Magnetism, we all had it even down to our baby sister. I continued my way towards the only beacon active -- the central stage. It was alive and everyone was riveted. As well they should have been.

My girl was performing.

I swept my gaze among the hoity toidy corporate elite married and not. Male or female. They sat in each of these plush leatherbacks, shifting from one position to another. They drew on their imported cigars, watching the show; each ember glowing brightly and I knew majority, if not all their eyes eagerly undressed Fleur and Cho with every movement of their bodies.

I've heard their show is non-comparable. The best in this city. I made it a personal point to not find out for myself.

I should have kept up with that resolution.

Tonight, I'm not sure what happened. As my eyes drew towards the stage I agonized inwardly at what I was so close to, but had no way to touch -- _Damn her_. It was an effort to tear my eyes from them, when I did they came to rest on the back of a female pressing herself against the metal railing.

Even in the dim lighting, her white knuckled grip was easy to see. Her body language screamed volumes… but compared to the two males flanking her, it would be simple to mistake her as subdued and unimpressed.

But my years in observation of the female form, said otherwise. Guys are all too easy to read, we know what we like and want; there's no need to be coy.

With no question as to whom they were, I edged closer. And sure enough, my younger brother was in the middle of male hysterics. I need to teach that boy a few things still…

_He was acting like a bonafide virgin._

My eyes shifted back to rest on the sole female of the _Magnificent Trio_. Hermione carried herself with the grace of a girl that knew how to handle herself alongside males. Considering Ron and Harry were the boys she consorted with -- One would need to adapt to more rugged ways. Even from her form as she draped herself carelessly over the railing, I could see the girl was quite lean.

Too thin for my taste.

The house lights soon flickered on and the stage was once more barren. It was like the performance was nothing but an illusion. As I continued to watch the trio, I couldn't help but to be amused; casually I meandered to their direction.

"Nice eh? They're the best draw to the club, best act I reckon".

The boys rounded about, eclipsing Hermione. Aside from a little more meat and deeper intones - Harry and Ron looked the same. At least in my eyes. Can't expect me to comment on the male form… That's just wrong.

Ron elicited the male version of a squeal, "I can't believe you know 'er Bill!"

"Lot good that does me, eh?" I remarked under my breath. Maybe I was more irritated than I thought, because I stabbed my fingers through his unruly mop and yanked, "Lookit you, how shabby can y'get? Invest in a comb, boy. It'll do wonders".

He lifted his hand and began to wiggle its digits furiously. "Fingers do just fine, thanks".

I rolled my eyes before tossing a nod towards Harry's direction, "'Arry. How long more are you willin' to put up with his shite?"

Fixing his glasses along the perch of his nose, Harry grinned, "He has his moments. Great t'see you Bill".

When the boys and I finally simmered our round of greetings, I turned my attention on to Hermione. What I expected to see wasn't what I got.

In that instance -- I knew I made a hasty judgment.

Lean she was, but it was more of an athletic build beneath the white buttoned-down-blouse and the pair of hip huggers she wore. Her body yearned to yield to its femininity; when she moved towards me, the hint of her modestly sized chest and a flash of her toned mid-rift came into view. She moved with an easy gait that wasn't as graceful as Fleur. At best… she was about 5'5"-6 --average height but she was taller than last I saw her.

Her eyes were a deep color, brown more than likely but it lacked that glint of the Hermione I knew just a year ago. Her hair was pulled into a haphazardly dressed bun, which oddly tamed her once-wild curls. Now, it looked as if her hair fell in soft waves. At least from whatever loose strands that managed to escape.

I was concerned with her initial pale complexion but that was all but erased as she gamely put on her patented brilliant lop-sided smile. She pushed her swath of healthy bangs from her eyes and said in a crisp English tone,

"It's been some time, Bill. Hi".

In a tom-boyish sort of way… Hermione Granger was a very attractive young woman.

Instantly I scooped her into my arms offering an embrace that was both consolatory and brotherly support. After all… under circumstances like what she had gone through recently - can wear down even the most steadfast personalities. And then _supposedly, _to deny that part of you that buried so deep, you don't know it exists… Hermione needed help.

Hence the boys' plan of action. When they asked about _'That hot lesbian dancer from the barbeque last summer'_, I should have suspected something. But to throw two souls like this together may have repercussions; which may just work in my favor, if I play things right….

"Hermione… Lookin' all grown up. Breakin' hearts are you?"

"You're one to talk, Bill".

I smiled, hugging her to my side. Per the norm when you haven't seen family or friends alike in a while, we all began that trek down yesteryear. But as I glanced sidelong to Hermione, her mind was elsewhere.

"…Ginny sends 'er sorries, few exams and all," Ron said.

I nodded and attempted to throw a question at Hermione, "You and my sis made amends? Wouldn't be right at the get-together this summer if y'hadn't".

"Well you know… Sure. I guess".

The other two and I shared a knowing look, so I pressed on impishly, "Ron any good in bed?"

This was when a massive right hook socked me at the meatiest portion of my upper arm. After wincing, I grinned at Ron.

Again, Hermione's eyes shifted over the sea of bodies. Anywhere else BUT to the conversation and we three were currently having, "Eh…I survived".

She had no clue what she was saying. Harry had a hard time keeping himself together. Suddenly I felt her body tense.

After her shows, Fleur likes to co-mingle with the patrons of the club. As I followed Hermione's line of sight I caught a glance of the elegant Frenchwoman meeting and greeting and rejecting various suitors. I concluded a long time ago, Fleur did not belong in this atmosphere.

"You have **no** idea what just hit you do you…" Again I side glanced the girl beside me and said, more to myself hoping she wouldn't hear:

"She's out of your league…"

When Hermione began to cough my thoughts raced. One of those just in case scenarios screamed in my head, had she actually heard my ill wishing?

"Alright there Hermione…?" I tested.

She smiled in a flustered manner, "…Just thirsty, Bill".

The girl was still beside herself. I nodded, "C'mon, there's an alcove 'ere". As Hermione settled into the cushioned seat, I prompted the boys to start their little plan. Ron bounded off.

Our conversation continued for a time until Ron had returned. With Fleur standing a foot or so from my brother, the moron couldn't figure out where he should place his hands; fighting to reach out and touch her or stuff them in his pants. Ron's spastic movements pulled a concerned look from Fleur. Taking control of the situation, the Frenchwoman turned about giving an assured squeeze of Ron's forearm. Giving a convulsive nod…. He sat.

Maneuvering about the private alcove, Fleur lifted a sweating pitcher of some imported Beer and slowly she made her way to each person after having introduced herself. Her body was a canvass of art… the dress just accentuated everything I ever imagined. It was silver, almost translucent cocktail dress that behooved an insane slit that ended right at the junction of her hip.

Her legs seemed endless and toned with a lifetime of dancing. She paused along Harry's side, serving him a glass of the concoction; unfortunately the liquid missed his mouth and ended up on his clothes. Knowing Fleur -- she was amused at the sight, but embarrassed for the young man. Deftly she moved to aid in cleaning the mess up. I glanced from Fleur to Hermione…

Her eyes remained unreadable, but transfixed. Hermione's body betrayed her. Its traitorous wont for touch from another person – not just any other person - began to show. But she wasn't even aware of it. As Fleur neared, Hermione's fingers flexed as they rested on her jean-covered knees. I can only guess at how many times she swallowed nervously.

While nursing my drink, Hermione caught my stare and suddenly shot from her seat. She straggled her way free from the wait-area only to nearly collide with Fleur; the boys unfortunately were in the way – no doubt their knees were knocked up a bit.

Whatever was exchanged between the pair, Hermione toddled off in a daze.

Fleur returned to us after casting one final look at Hermione from the far end of the club.

I mused, "Stare any harder and I think you'll go cock-eyed".

Fleur chuckled giving a slight cant of her head, "It would be worth it".

"Fleur…" Harry started, "Can you… you know".

Ron sat in mute – ogling the Frenchwoman no less - so was no help to Harry as he looked around for an explanation that wasn't resident in the club ambiance.

I held up my frosted mug of liquid and offered, "Does y'needle go apeshit where th'girl's concerned? Is she…? Or isn't she?"

Fleur gave a musical laugh and eased among us, topping our drinks off. "That... I think, is something your friend 'as to wrestle with 'erself. Oui?"

"A'right then, what d'you think o'the girl"? My curiosity… (I hoped it was) continued to eat at me. I wanted to know. "Y'still **think **y'fancy her, mm?"

When her eyes met mine, they burrowed silently through me. Both Ron's and Harry's gaze began to ping-pong between us. The uneasy silence was broken by a diminutive girl a short time later; from the look of it, she was a new employee. She was probably one of those that would gladly lick the shadow that Fleur cast. She handed Fleur a tray topped with a cocktail.

"Bet that's Hermione's drink, eh? She **was** complaining about being thirsty, best get it to 'er right quick."

I soon fished about my pockets pulling another ciggie free. I lit up. The rancid combination of chemicals filled my lungs. The Frenchwoman disliked my 'nasty' habit – she made it known on many occasions. Tonight I felt bold, I felt resistant. She knew it too.

And why the fuck not, right? It's my bloody body, she shouldn't give a damn what I do with it.

After a prolonged battle of wills, Fleur made her excuse, "Si vous m'excusez. I 'ave a job to do".

When Fleur was gone from earshot and sight, Harry looked at me curiously, and Ron asked, "What the 'ell was that 'bout? You're actin' like…"

"What Ron?" I snapped, "Enlighten me with your keen adult knowledge."

He glared at me, "You're acting like a foul jealous bastard, 'at's what."

I drew in the rank smoke once more, letting the singed portion of the ciggie burn as close to my fingers as inhumanly possible. With another grateful swig of my drink I turned to face the rotund face of my baby brother and said:

"I SHOULD be pissed off at that inference… but that's so idiotic coming from you", I laughed. I let my slightly inebriated gaze drift towards the far end of the club and absently said under my breath, "…Why would I ever be jealous of HermionefuckingGranger".

"Wussat…?" asked Ron.

"Hearing things again Ron". I answered compliantly, irritably.

"Yeah well if you learned how to talk, Bill, I wouldn'a have this problem."

Harry soon joined in, more to ease the sudden tension, "Maybe you're getting too old, Ron".

As boys do, they began to play-fight. Even I wasn't that childish at twenty-three…

I mopped a hand over my face; the drinks were steadily getting to me. Not quite sure at how many I had already had. But I felt a damp blanket of my sweat over my flesh, despite the cool of the air conditioners. I shifted my eyes towards my wristwatch.

Ten minutes passed. Where the hell was Fleur?

I rubbed the bridge of my nose and glanced to the two boys. "Ginny…"

At the mention of the youngest Weasley, Ron and Harry stopped.

"…She was pretty upset." I said after completing another drag.

Harry ran a hand through his hair and nodded, "but you have to understand, Bill – It was graduation night."

"Eehh-yah, parties…" joined Ron.

"-Drinks".

"Final flings…"

Harry coughed, "On Hermione's behalf, that night – she was a tad gnoshed and things happened".

"So you condone what Hermione tried to do?"

"No no, it's not that we do; s'just that – You can't blame her for what happened. I mean, Gin…"

"Choose your words carefully, 'Arry". I warned. But Ron finished his statement to my surprise.

"…Bill, Gin can be a little tease, yannow. 'Sides… Was a lil kiss, way Hermione told us."

I stared incredulously at Ron, "Gin's blood. She's family… more so than that--"

But before I could reiterate my point, a familiar presence encompassed the area. I looked over my shoulder and saw Fleur quietly going about her duty, plucking up emptied cups and purposefully avoiding meeting our curious gazes.

She forgets… I know her better than her own parents. As she passed me, I reached forward and wrapped my hand about her slender wrist. Her eyes locked with mine.

Ce qui ? What are you doing? I 'ave work to do, m'sieur."

"Get off it, Fleur. C'mere." The image of the Frenchwoman began to waver just a little but never the less I held fast and tugged her to me.

I must have tugged too hard because she landed on my lap. Feeling my sweat licked forehead come to rest at the crook of Fleur's neck and shoulder, my arms secured themselves about her waist. I felt her lips close to my ear.

"…Too much to drink. It is time to go 'ome." Her hands pressed against my chest. I started to think she was pushing me away.

I breathed her in and smelled a trace of her arousal. I pawed at her face, cupping it and whispered, "D'ja fuck'er?" My lips twisted into a smile.

She responded with a wan one of her own and touched her forehead to mine, "I ask you as a friend -- please do not do this to me, please…"

The next few frames of this train wreck were a blur. It never crossed my mind that Hermione Granger even knew what a cuss-word was. But as they flew out of her mouth in rapid-fire accusations -- I wanted to slap her.

Fleur eased herself from me.

The boys struggled to keep Hermione at bay; Fleur closed the gap between them and said something out of earshot. Not even five minutes later, Cho was at Fleur's back. They gave way to the trio. Hermione lagged behind pausing only briefly to look at the now-stoic Frenchwoman.

I rose to my feet, using my forefinger and thumb to try and ease the double vision I seemed to be experiencing. They stared at one another for a good minute or two. At this point I was close enough to hear Fleur say:

"…At least I did not charge you for the drinks non"? She tucked the rest of the money that was previously thrown at her, between her breasts.

In a blur, I saw Fleur's head snap sharply to the left. The sound of flesh smacking flesh was drowned in the blaring club ambiance.

That didn't stop Cho from attempting to round Fleur, no doubt readying to give Hermione a healthy dose of Hong Kong justice.

The tip of Fleur's tongue slipped past her lips, lapping at the slight indention of the corner of her mouth.

"Non, Cho…" Softly reprimanded the Frenchwoman. She turned to leave but stopped as Hermione opened her yaw again.

"I hope you enjoyed yourself."

Fleur glanced briefly back at the young woman and declined her head. A soft, wistful smile crested over her lips.

She gave an ever-so-slight dip of her head and said plainly but with enough emotion, it winded its intended target.

"Because it was **you**… I did".

Even in my state -- I could see the look of confusion Hermione was sporting; I was just as discombobulated by Fleur's statement. When the trio finally left the club, I trundled after Fleur and Cho.

"Jus' what th'ell d'you mean by that, Fleur??" She paused in her trek and automatically her Asian pup stood between the two of us. "Oh jeez go sic someone else for a change Cho! Just tryin' t'ave a conversation w'th'woman". I speared my eyes back at Fleur. I may've looked the part of a raving lunatic -- but the woman was blinded! Just by the look in her eyes… I could tell. I could tell… she had fallen for that girl. How, when or why? I dunno.

That's going to change.

"Are you flippin' mad? D'ja not see what jus' happened here?? For cryin' out loud, the only thing y'know about this girl is 'er name an' that she 'as one 'elluva right hook".

"Sir… I think 'at's quite enough." I glanced over my shoulder. Neville the stage hound appeared, yammering about how loud I was getting.

"Jeezus Neville -- It's a fucking club -- like anyone can hear above 'at rubbish," Suddenly he looked bigger than last I saw him, "Mind yer own bis'ness, go back an' do whatever it is the hell you do".

"I am".

…It got quiet then. I must have fallen asleep after watching the stars fade.

--

AN: My apologies for the slow pace. Somewhere along the line things will pick up. Thank you for the comments, they're much appreciated. Even disagreeable comments are welcomed – so long as they're constructive.


	3. iii: Harry, Neville and Cho

**Title: **REDUX

**Chapter: **iii - Harry, Neville and Cho.

**Disclaimer: **All characters belong to JKR. Keep in mind, I'm just borrowing.

--

At least I learned how to stifle my yawns. When I looked to Ron, it was plain to see that the previous night of pub-crawling wore on him, with his mouth wide open another audible tired groan rumbled out. Then I turned my glance to Hermione, she seemed like she had an endless amount of energy. She glanced back to us and shook her head.

"I don't understand why you're so tired".

"She's flipped", he whispered to me first, then called out, "You're barking-freakin'-mad! Normal people who're suffering from hangovers wouldn't be up right now an' secondly", Ron was a spectacular whiner, "WHY are we still in this bloody country?? We're 'pposed t'be headed t'Prague"!

"Louder Ron, I don't think the good flock of tourists around us has labeled you committable yet…" said Hermione with her lopsided smile. She wandered off.

"Just suck it up, mate -- this'll probably be our last true vacation before we hit the 'real-world' -- let 'er have her fun".

I scuffed my feet along the graveled/dirt road. Just a few yards before us, Hermione put her skill with the camera to good use, snapping her shots when they counted. But with a yank at the nook of my elbow, I was forced to stop.

Ron easily towered me; though that never stopped me from popping him if I needed to. "The hell are you doing? You almost took out my shoulder"!

"C'mon 'Arry! Fun is trompin' in Hostels, sharing rooms with incredible looking women that latch'emselves to guys like us! Goin' out every night skippin' t'new countries… THIS…"

Ron emphasized his point by waving his lanky arms maniacally towards the antiquated streets and buildings and the countless of family-tourists around us doing family things…

"…Is NOT fun", he huffed, "She's doin' 'er National Geographic thing… didn't sign up for a school fieldtrip, 'Arry -- I mean crikey! 'Mione got to tap th'FINEST chick in Italy - we basically accomplished our mission, SHE'S OUT… why is she making us suffer here after she screwed it up?? NO -- you have to do something mannn…"

I shoved enough against Ron to wrench my arm free. I glared at him, "First, stop breathing on me. You still smell like beer." Then I adjusted my jacket, which thanks to Ron's roughhousing didn't fit well on me, "An' for once, you need to learn when to shut up -- It's not all about you, Ron." But despite that it passed through the cavernous expanse that lay between his ears; I shook my head and muttered that I'd talk to her.

As I scouted the perimeter of one of Italy's popular draw, it didn't take long to find her. She was sitting Indian style on a patch of knoll, with her elbows propped on her khaki pants and her monster camera pointed at the massive complex. Hermione had the eyepiece pressed to her brow and her finger at the ready.

"I've always trusted you, you know…" she said as I neared.

"Ah, well… that's a relief; do I need to start worrying"?

Hermione chuckled, "Why"? She turned to look at me, as if to dare me. "Is there something you're admitting to me"? But she flashed her smile and nodded towards the subject of her photography. The overcast of grays played almost sadly over the ancient stadium.

"It would make for a great shot, don't you think Harry"?

"Well… a picture is a picture. I mean, I guess it would be eye-catching. But this thing's been photographed so many times, why repeat doing it, you know? It's why I never got history".

There was a strange half smile on her lips followed by a long quiet spell. The sound of her camera clicking was the only noise I really noticed.

"Yeah", Hermione suddenly started. She looked at me as she slowly got to her feet, "…I hate history too - too much speculation, too much make-up stories. Science. The only thing you find there, tangible, accessible things - truths".

I think I just stepped into a trap. But I tried to play it off - in lieu of helping her gather her things I pressed on, "You know we need to talk about… what happened and all; you know… what happened a few days ago…"

"And we have been, talking that is-- what a great talk too. Settled a lot of things".

"What? We haven't been… Well we have but not about-" my thoughts started to catch up.

She smiled and turned to walk from me. "That's history. We decided we didn't like history, didn't we." That was a comment, not a question.

Her stubbornness is the stuff of legend.But I topped that.

"Hermione, why are we still here? Why don't we just… get out of here, I mean is there a reason for us staying"? I blurted everything out.

She slowly turned. My insides twisted. I felt like I hit the right chord… There wouldn't be any other reason to stay in country if she wasn't going to try to pursue that dancer, right? I mean it was obvious she had a hard-on for the woman. That's if she was… you know… built like Ron and me.

Hermione used her forefinger and thumb to pull at her lower lip. That only meant she was thinking of how to answer. I felt pride in myself. There haven't been many people that can stand toe to toe with Hermione. Much less cause her to actually pause to think.

"There IS a reason yes. A very GOOD reason -- I think you'll agree."

She fished in her knapsack and pulled out a ticket stub.

"You see… We're not slated to leave till a week and a half from now - at least that's what I read on this train stub, Harry".

I stared at it, then her blankly.

"But if you two want to pay a little extra to leave and waste more of our nearly non-existent cash supply -- by ALL MEANS -- of course, then we'd definitely have the _truest_ sense of backpacking."

I nervously tugged at my earlobe and offered a very unsteady chuckle -- at my expense.

"Well… guess I shoved a bit of fist in my mouth, huh?" I cleared my throat, "Uhh yeah, this is yours".

"Mm", she snatched the stub back.

As she eyeballed placing her stub back into the pit of her knapsack, she kept her head lowered; which was allowing her eyes to be elsewhere but meeting mine she rambled quietly out,

"…she knotted me up some good didn't she? Bloody reached into me and tore my sanity apart…I _should_ hate her…She shouldn't reign my thoughts," she elicited a surly laugh, "How can I hate someone I don't know…Harry, I don't know what to do… I don't know how to act…I don't know who I am…I don't even know if I'm straight or bullocking… Harry you have to tell me..?"

Her voice was shaking and her words were muddied. I wasn't sure what she was trying to get at.

"There you two are"!

Immediately, I whirled around, "Oh for fuxsake - You need a lesson in timing"! I yelled.

Hermione pulled away, no doubt hoping to escape Ron's scrutinizing eyes. His hands slapped onto my shoulders - I tried not to wince. The ape doesn't realize his own clumsy strength.

"You're bitchin' again. And when you bitch like 'at, your voice gets all-high… like a… well… bitch". He looked at Hermione and wheezed out between deep breaths, "No 'ffense".

"Drink yourself into a coma, Ron". Hermione crossed her arms, "Tough thing isn't it? Exercise".

"Ah… there's th'Mione we all know and love". He clapped his hands together, probably trying to warm them up. I don't blame him; it was an extremely cold day.

He looked at me expectantly so I explained what Hermione had pointed out in regards to our tickets. Ron seemed to accept that. Forgetting about his earlier angst, he growled his hunger. That only made me realize that it was getting on to noon. So with a quick game of Paper-Rock-Scissors, we made short order of whether we should take a risk in buying from a vendor, or driving elsewhere. And when it was settled…Ron grinned.

"There's a pub 'cross town".

"You know, most humans need more than JUST fermented barley to live on…"

"Save th'preachin' 'Mione, they have pizzas there too".

"Just because we're in Italy, doesn't immediately constitute every bloody restaurant SHOULD be serving pizza".

Ron looked to the both of us and said seriously, "BECAUSE it's Italy… they SHOULD".

Hermione stared and began walking away, "You need to be committed by that alone".

As they bickered, I began to rub at the base of my skull. Hunger pains always gave me a headache. But when I refocused my eyes, I caught sight of someone who I thought looked familiar.

"Ron? S'at Bill"?

He paused in his word-sparring with Hermione by pressing his forefinger on her lips.

"Eyyyyyeah. Who's the bird?"

"Dunno."

"She's hot."

"C'mon you can't tell from this far…"

"I have immaculate tastes in wo…OW! 'MIONE!" Ron reeled his hand back and began to cradle it.

I glanced and caught Hermione wiping her lips, "Heh, lookit Ron -- think she's hungry too."

She grinned impishly.

Ron scowled at the both of us but scooped out the keys from his pockets to our rental and jangled them.

"Well then…You two can fight o'er shot gun. My turn t'drive."

--

_.Elsewhere…at the same moment in time._

"Your hand".

"Ah. Yeah. It is kinda puke-ish looking innit"?

"Just a bit. Not worried about it"?

"Not really - Bruises like these normally last this long anyway maybe even longer".

"Are you speaking from experience…"?

Sometimes, I don't even realize what I say until it's out. This is just what happened here. I feel my eyes shy away from Cho and land on my relaxed fist. The very same one I used to hit Mr. Weasley with three days ago.

Shrugging, I tell her that I had a lot of mishaps back when I was a kid. That's always enough by way of an explanation. I rubbed my hands together, hoping that she'd stop looking. I glanced up; sure enough her head was turned away.

"Bill's an asshat".

Cho's always had a way with words. "I thought you liked him".

She tossed the tail end of her hair over her shoulder and began to suck on a few strands. Between her lips she mumbled out,

"As much as I like getting an STD Nev… But he **was **a good lay. No lying there".

Cho rolled on to her stomach then propped her chin on her folded arms. Her eyes were always focused. And far off in the distance they were focused on her rival and friend (at least I think they were friends).

"So why don't you like him"?

"He always has a hidden agenda".

"I don't think I unnerstand".

She smiled and turned her head to look at me. "You know how you're concerned about me and," Cho paused and motioned towards the enigmatic woman off in the distance, "…sometimes"?

I think I turned beet red. I mean how could I not think that? Cho had intense feelings whenever Fleur was concerned.

Cho grinned at this point and I found myself explaining lamely that I was just--

"Worried, I know. But I'd never hurt the woman out of spite. Jealousy maybe…"

I blinked.

"Neville… I'm kidding". She grinned. "Unlike Bill -- I at least tell you what to expect out of dealing with me. His methods are more underhanded and subtle. You don't know you're in trouble until you're slapped".

"I didn't take 'im for the touble-making type".

Her eyes closed, I guess she was remembering something she'd rather not. Because there was a little crease of between her brows as she laid there.

"Mm. There's a reason why, even though I bitch about her sometimes,"

I interjected with a cough.

"FINE -- a LOT of the time --" Cho pulled at a blade of grass that rested against her thigh, "I would do anything for her".

I didn't even hear the footsteps until they were almost on me. I looked over my shoulder. I'm not even sure how long she was standing there watching us.

"It is impolite to talk about me when I am not 'ere".

"How'd you figure we were"? I asked.

"My ears began to ring," said Fleur simply, "Qui? Is she finally admitting 'er feelings for moi"? She gave a smirk before she offered me a wicker basket full of picnic necessities.

"You just can't bloody stand that I'm the only woman you can't get, huh?" said Cho while I began to unpack the basket.

"Woman? You?" mocked Fleur.

Cho threw a dinner roll at her, "Cow".

I felt my mouth give a buck toothed smile.

"Have I told you how stupid a picnic is on a day like this"?

"Countless".

"One more time doesn't hurt then… this was dumb". Cho squawked and then faced me, "Pass me some of that soup luv".

"Mm, be sure to spit in that, Neville".

I'm never really sure if Fleur was kidding. She always had that I'm-serious tone. Though her back was turned to me somewhere along the line I decided not to follow her advice.

I passed the filled soup-mug to Cho and cast a glance to the sky. It was overcast…Overcast and cool, maybe bordering cold. But these were the days that Fleur particularly enjoyed - I don't know why, I won't even ask - but it isn't a surprise that when I was first hired on, there were whispers for me to watch out for _Her Royal Iciness_. Why the called her that, I will never understand. It put me on edge, but in the end… like the smoke filled rooms of the club, they were just hissed rumors that disappeared. Eventually, I guess I earned my keep with Fleur and joined she and Cho on these Winter-Picnics. Cho coined the term. They just consisted of us, quiet camaraderie and hot soups and drinks.

"It's supposed to be a bad storm by weekend"; I off-handedly offered then huddled into my hoodie.

Fluer in the meantime busied herself with setting up another 'place' on the picnic blanket.

"Meh. I think it's already here", Cho wheezed out while she eyed Fleur. "Who's the extra setting for?"

"William. He said he was bringing a guest".

Looking where Cho was fixed on and hearing what was said I suddenly inhaled my soup too quickly; luckily Cho was there to add our two cents in. I think she articulated it better than I could have.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Am I laughing?" asked Fleur.

"D'you remember why Neville sprained his hand?" Cho waited and Fleur stared back. Cho then said out loud, "Because he cold-cocked Bill's smarmy ass… and might I add -- I should have slapped that tawdry wench…what's'ername Herminny?"

"Bill was…"

"Drunk?"

"Oui… But you know 'ow he gets and…She 'ad nothing to do with that."

"Right, she had EVERYTHING to do with it. Her comments set him off."

"Cho's right…" I quietly said, "It was sort of 'er fault…"

Fleur's gaze moved to mine and I pulled the hoodie further to hide my face. Her touch eased over the injured hand and she began to massage the heck out of the stiffness gracing it.

…Her hands were so warm.

Even behind her thickly rimmed glasses her eyes gave me a comforting glance. Gently, Fleur lifted my hand to her lips and placed a kiss on the grotesque knuckles. I smiled my appreciation; any physical ache I had like that, always seemed to go away when she took care of them. I always thought Fleur had an inner type of magic.

She looked back to Cho and calmly told her that Bill will always be Bill, but he was also her friend.

"What few friends I 'ave, I would like to try to keep". As Fleur left my side, she situated herself closer to Cho, letting the same hands lift the other woman's onyx bangs from her eyes and tilt Cho's head to face her. "You among them."

Cho went ramrod then gave a glance at Fleur, whom in turn waited silently after pulling back. Cho held the mug of soup I poured her in her hands.

"I absolutely bloody **detest** when you do that", she paused to take in the soup, "You know I don't have to like the people you like, right."

Fleur's lips curled into a chased smile while working to fill a plastic wine-chalice with her favored liquor, "I don' think it's in your character to like anyone, despite their good intents – if any_"_.

With another colorful mouthful of Cho's verbal fencing, Fleur lifted her chalice to her lips but gave a little pause. It was enough for Cho and me to notice. Nonetheless she completed her swig.

Already, I felt like I needed to be on guard. "Fl-…?" The quick, cutting glare she fed me did well to remind me where we were. And we were away from that safe haven. We were outside of the club.

I shut my mouth.

We followed explicit rules that Fleur set a long time ago. Her name was never to be mentioned on the outside. And if we needed to call her in any fashion, we used her stage pseudo. Only those she trusted earned her name, even fewer still knew what she was trying to hide or even bury.

From beneath the lip of my hoodie and scoured the area. You had your a-typical fair of family, lovers and friends enjoying the cool weekend. Granted there wasn't the abundance of bodies as it would be were it warmer weather, but it was enough to get your head turned in on itself.

"I don't see them," commented Cho still nursing her drink.

"They are 'ere. They will always be aroun'" replied Fleur pulling her fleece pullover's collar about her neck, "Neville, call William -- let 'im know we will meet 'im at the usual place…"

Sparing a nod I dialed him up, while letting my eyes still search for this unnamed 'danger' posed to my surrogate sister. I hurriedly explained to Bill when he picked up and he grunted his acknowledgments. Suddenly in the middle of the call, I spotted a curious bloke, blatantly pointing a telescopic lens towards our area.

Then again the view surrounding us was immaculate…

"… Yeah great, we'll see y'then Mr. Weasley…Ah, yeah, right right -- Bill…. I'm sorry? OH! Hand's better, thanks…I 'ope you unnerstan' I was… yeah, just doin' my job. Yeah? Great… great. Right. Bye."

"Whining about his pretty purple nose is he?"

I looked to Cho and shrugged, "I thought he needed a lil color."

The girls laughed.

"Nev - that isn't nice… I'm proud of you!"

At least it broke whatever tension was building. We began to stow our things as normal as we just muster without looking panicked. Cho was the first to carry some things back to our SUV.

There was a touch to my arm, I looked up

"Calm down Neville. Jus' move at an easy pace -- we'll be out of 'ere in no time, oui?"

"How," I cleared my throat as it suddenly decided to fail me, "…can I protect you if I don't even know what to protect you from?" She looked at me curiously. "You 'ave people watchin' you; heck maybe even followin' you. Don't think I didn't notice that guy with the camera."

"It is not your job to protect me."

"Like it isn't yours to take away my pains."

She steadfastly continued to pack and faithfully, I remained at her side - Fleur finally stopped and softly asked,

"Alright…What do you want to know?"

"…**Who** are you?"

--

My fingers toyed idly with the key set hanging from the ignition. I pressed my face closer to the car's vents -- The warmth blowing from it was a welcome relief compared to what Mother Nature had waiting outside. It wasn't enough to ease my nervous tick. My leg jumped up and down drawing my gaze to it, I slapped my thigh as if it were a sentient thing and hissed,

"Will you JUST stop!?"

Of course, my body never listens because the nervous tick began again. I tossed a glance at the rear view mirror. Fleur and Neville finished the packing and were slowly, en-route.

"Good good good… Just walk the bloody hell faster."

I couldn't for the life of me understand why Fleur would risk herself like this -- these outings, her silly little traditions. How long could she keep her identity wrapped up in a cellophane package? And how long was I going to go along with this?? At least I grew enough moxy to claim my life as my own.

"She had better be thankful I like her so much."

She was a daughter of affluence. Affluence that has limitless resources…It was bound to catch up to her. I shook my head and laughed, "And of all places to hide in, good god woman…"

The door to the SUV finally groaned open. Fleur slipped into the back seat while Neville stood there with his massive hands stuffed into his sweater pockets. I inclined my eyes to study his face. I arched a brow.

"The prodigal daughter finally opened her mouth?"

Canting my head, I motioned him to get in. When he finally settled in the passenger seat, was when he spoke.

"How long have you known?"

"What? That we had our own little _Paris Hilton_?" My body jolted forward with a kick that rocked my seat. I looked to the backseat and lobbed a wink at Fleur.

"Well… yeah," he conceded. "And the people? With the cameras?"

"Media? Paparazzi? Who knows, but one shot of Lady Recluse could help start your retirement I'm bloody sure…" I teased. "But… I knew for a while."

Peeling out of the driveway I guided the SUV down Italy's narrow streets. "I mean ever since that one patron came by and gave her that necklace? Remember him?"

"The old bloke with the long beard?"

"Mm."

"Ah yeah, he really liked your performance that night… gave you a standing O as I remember…"

"Yeah, he did didn't he?"

"Who was he?"

"That was Grandpa Albus D. DeLacour." I grinned, "At least that's what I recall of the business card I got."

"Your grandfather??" Neville sounded like he was about to croak.

"Don' remind me," meekly announced Fleur.

I told Neville the condensed version. The DeLacours were the epitome of the fashion world; Dolce and Gabbana was very yesteryear. If you didn't have at least one DeLacour in your courtier something was wrong with you. Of course, that was just on her mother's side… Her paternal side hailed from a long line of Financiers. It was a classic clash of old money meeting new. **But** along the way, Fleur became estranged from her family. Till Albus tried to recall the lost sheep the night he visited the club.

There was of course another part of that conversation that I neglected to tell Neville, as it wasn't my business. I really hadn't meant to eavesdrop that night. Despite that, Grandfather Albus kept his promise so far though; never seeing his Grand-daughter since.

Neville sat in silence till he looked to Fleur. Her eyes were concentrated again - watching the blur of life go past from behind the tinted windows of the SUV. She pressed her forehead against the glass.

"I'm sorry for…"

"Non don' you dare be sorry for me -- my story is nothing more than jus' a spoiled rich girl getting her comeuppance. It is a waste of time to speak more on the subject."

I glanced at Neville and quickly shook my head. He nodded quickly understanding that to pursue the subject, would be suicide. I shifted the SUV into a lower gear as we neared the main vein of the city.

"So…" I began, the silence inside was just too deafening. "Hermyninny Granger…."

"'Ermione… It's…" she paused suddenly and I glanced to her once more. Fleur's brow creased, as her lips tasted the name of, "Her-my-oh-nee Granger," came her careful, corrective reply. The delivery was delicate enough to enunciate every syllable in that young woman's name. Fleur was so far gone over her.

"Qui? What about 'er?"

_Good. Successful distraction. Even better, THANK GOD FOR NOISE._

I looked to Neville; he barely managed to hide his endearing bucktoothed grin.

"She's, not your usual fair... not saying she's unattractive…But."

"I think she's plenty attractive," joined Neville. I was amused.

"Well now, here I thought you only had eyes for the Silver-Haired goddess…" I teased.

"I like t'think my eye for beauty is pretty good -- I mean…" he paused and I felt his gaze on me, "I like looking at you."

The SUV gave a jump as I ran over a speed bump. Fleur laughed and I think I told her she could go ahead and do something with a broom handle and some part of her that ended with an -unt.

My skin flared with heat but as I regained focus -- without looking at Neville -- I turned the conversation back. "Granger. That night, you obviously did more than your fair share of dancing for her -- why's she so special? More than any of the other girls you… you know."

She knew that I had a knack of never holding back when it came to her and her trysts.

Fleur settled on the divide of the passenger and driver seat. She leaned forth and simply said, "Because… when she looked at me..."

I snorted an interruption, "You believe in that then, do you. Love at first sight?"

"_Le coup de foudre?_ D'_Amor… _That is a 'eavy word, no? I don' know if I believe in that but…like we trust that all around us is air and if we breathe it in that it makes us live, I know that when I looked into her eyes and when she smiled..." Reflected Fleur, "…that was the first time I felt _vivant… Alive._"

I knew she wasn't talking about the night she snogged the girl, but it was talk of a time before she ran here -- she knew that Granger woman for only a short while.

The words washed over me. I think I understood. But I couldn't empathize. Love's a cheap whore. Finicky of who she lets touch her. But more power to those that think they can't live without it. Though when I looked at Fleur… I grudgingly felt myself wanting to believe in it again.

"And you let her go?" asked Neville.

Fleur rested her chin on the crook of Neville's backrest and let her elegant arms course around Neville's broad shoulders, "… she was never mine to begin with."

I took the next roundabout and pointed the SUV towards the little hole in the wall Bistro that we occasionally went out of our way for. Parking was scarce -- so I took the foremost available sidewalk. Which… sort of sent sidewalk patrons skittering like roaches.

As usual -- Fleur's cheek in tongue complaint of my unorthodox parking free fell in French curse-word slurs.

"I bet those words sound good in bed."

Fleur smirked, "You wan' find out, oui?"

"Ha. No, you **wish** I want to find out", I stated flatly.

"Ahh… a lesbian can dream", she gamely joked.

I sidled myself along Neville's tall, supportive frame and curled my arms about his. I always loved seeing him flush. My action was enough to cause him to turtle back into his hoodie. A sharp whistle rung its irritable tinny in the air. As we collectively turned, my mood soured.

Bill stood with a ciggy hanging limply from his bottom lip. From all the time I had with Bill…I never knew what he did for a living. But I do recall Fleur mentioning that he was a writer of some sort. You couldn't've told by the way he dressed. He was Pimp incarnate.

"Ahh, there's my girl…. Y'lookin'…" Bill gave a plastic smile, "…homey."

Fleur had immensely dummied herself down; her hair was disheveled in a bun, her glasses were a throwback from the 1960s secretarial era (she wore contacts solely for work) and were perched carelessly on her nose. This morning she had Neville dress her, so the tracksuit and windbreaker she wore seemed to ooze off her like a Salvador Dali painting.

I thought she was quite appealing like this. Something I would never admit to her.

"That is th'sweetest thing you 'ave ever tol' me, amis." She pecked his cheek.

In turn, he greeted me with the customary nibble-of-his-lower-lip. To Neville, he was very stand off-ish. Probably because of the fisticuff that happened, or Bill still held some ill will. You see… Fleur moved from sharing Bill's immense studio flat into Neville's rinky little domicile.

"I hope you all came with an empty stomach -- I took th'liberty of orderin'."

Bill led the way to a tucked away corner table facing the main street and the Coliseum. As we neared the section my steps immediately slowed. A woman was seated at the right-most corner. Her features were exotic, her body was slim and her taste of fashion, screamed Sunday best. Exactly the type of woman Fleur had those cavalier nights with.

She rose from her seat as Bill started to introduce all parties. We found out that she was the lead corporate lawyer for Slytherin & Malfoy -- the top firm in England and the United States -- and apparently a very good friend of Bill's, or so we were led to believe. As I shook her hand, I had a sense that this woman was fairly sharp in everything she did. But she had a poor sense of etiquette when it came to formal introductions. At least towards Neville and myself. I personally made it a point to _pretend_ I like the person I meet before I write them off.

She moved lastly to Fleur.

"And this", said Bill his hands immediately folding over Fleur's shoulders as he stood behind her, "Is a very close friend of mine…"

"-- Rielle," said Fleur crisply. "d'Monde. Rielle d'Monde." She extended her hand and was met by the other woman's own.

"What an…interesting name. A pleasure, Rielle. And please… call me Padma."

It seemed… Padma's etiquette suddenly returned to her. _Trollop._

With the introductions finished we each settled into the first availed seats. The tart decided to plump her rear alongside Fleur. As Bill had promised, the food had been ordered and placed on the table waiting to be consumed. Light conversation ensued, peppered with hooded and lingering glances. I wasn't the only one that noticed. From across the table, Neville kicked at my shin. It was enough to tow my attention to Bill, Padma and Fleur. There was another story there… But the drone of the current topic dulled my mind before I attempted to pull some sense of the situation.

My eyes instead took in the sights of the city. Along with the sights, my ears picked up the disorienting cries of the people clogging the streets as well as the nasty wailing of horns.

Then…In the middle of Padma's pitiful story of paying too much for a facial, a car had careened out of control. As it turned into the main intersection near the Coliseum the loudest vice of the city couldn't drown out the twisted screams of the accident. It was like watching a stunt gone terribly. The silver sedan fishtailed and struck a lamppost, t-boning the aluminum made vehicle. Smoke began to spew from the engine block engulfing it almost completely.

It was close enough to us that we could see the hapless occupants of the sedan. Immediately, Fleur tore from her seat; like white on rice, I ran after her. Among the shocked looks and vigorous cries of onlookers -- I was faintly aware of a woman's timbre screaming out,

"Oh GOD! Fleur! Don't…!"

It obviously wasn't me. I spared a glance to Padma…

"Grab 'er Cho!" yelled Neville. My attentions were ripped away from the mystery that surrounded Padma.

Try as I could Fleur's long-legged sprint put a decent amount of distance between her and me.

She tore off her windbreaker as soon as she arrived at the car. Other people who had already surrounded the area had slipped into the role of good Samaritans. From what I saw a male and a female occupied the front two seats. The final… had been thrown from the car. His body was crumpled like a rag doll at the opposite end of the street.

"Neville!"

"I'm on it!"

I reached the car just as the flames began to lick the frontal portion of the sedan. The door was off its hinge.

"Fleur! Get the hell away from there!"

My arms flailed about her midsection, I tried to wrestle her backward. In a desperate French ridden plea, she begged me to let her go; she was fighting me. My eyes speared into the interior of the car and saw why.

The wan glassy eyed look of the passenger stared blankly at us… Gone were the familiar eyes I remember. Hermione was locked into the passenger side, with the seatbelts refusing to loosen their grip. The airbag successfully erupted, along with its activation it sent the car's dashboard collapsing on Hermione's right thigh. She was awake but in shock and at a loss.

With her bloodied hands, she was pressing against the mangled dash.

"P...please… I can-n't push it. My hands… are slipping…please," came her weak call for help before her panic set in. "I-I'm stuck… Oh GODS…I'm stuck!"

Fleur took Hermione's face between her hands, "Stop… stop…._bien_…I will not let anything 'appen to you; you 'ave to work with me, oui? Bien… Keep your eyes on me."

"M-my friend… he was driving…"

I looked up at the driver's side and saw that it was vacant; unbelievably, the red headed male was freed. He was stutter-stepping about, but walking on his own. "Don't worry about him, love, you just keep still okay? Listen to the crazy French chic trying to save you."

Hermione gave up a quick laugh before she nodded through the pain. As Fleur instructed, the young English woman trained her eyes on her; Fleur kept talking, she talked of her life, she talked of her twin sister…about her private Villa just overlooking the Adriatic Sea and into Greece. I could tell Hermione was going in and out of consciousness.

From behind, Bill offered his pocketknife, and Fleur wasted few words of thanks and grabbed at the utility piece.

Raggedly as Hermione came about in one instance, she breathed out, "It's y-you," as Fleur cut through the seatbelt.

"O-ui… Cho take this… Oui… it is."

Hermione shut her eyes and surrendered a quiet, but fleeting smile. "Can I…have your name…n-now?" she paused, "I-I'm asking nicely."

I couldn't help but crack a smile, Fleur on the other hand, laughed softly. She bent herself closer to the young woman and brushed her lips over Hermione's bruised brow.

"You can 'ave everything I am… But you need to do one thing for me and it is all I will ever ask of you…" Hermione gave a shallow nod, "'Old to me."

The girl complied and curled her arms about Fleur's neck. A piece of wood had been wedged under the dash to provide the leverage needed to pull Hermione free.

"Don't let me go."

Intermittent explosions of flashbulbs were going off. I should have paid more attention.

"Not in my wildest dreams, 'Ermione…"

At the count of three, the ruddy sedan shook as the lot of us worked to ease the burden off Hermione's leg.

"You promise…?"

_1…_

"Always."

_2…_

"Good".

3…!

Fleur pulled…

Hermione screamed…

I never heard anything more blood curdling.


	4. iv: padma & fleur

**Title: **REDUX

**Chapter: **iv - Padma and Fleur

**Disclaimer: **All characters belong to JKR. Keep in mind, I'm just borrowing.

--

I planned everything to implicit perfection. My hair, my makeup, the clothes I picked, the curl of my words… everything. But I wasn't prepared for how _I_ would react.

As I stood outside the building, I blundered about my purse for a slim fag. Carefully I balanced the slender paper rolled stick between my fore and middle fingers. I hear the familiar sound of a lighter coming to life. Glancing upward, I was met with Bill's jade-eyed stare. I leaned towards the orange glow.

The invasion of the rank smoke was a welcomed infection in my lungs. "Ta."

"Back at you." Bill slapped his Zippo closed. "So?"

"So what, Mr. Weasley?"

"Ms Patil, I din't get a hold of you for my health."

"Ah." A subtle way to ask for it, but…I didn't expect anything less from his type. So I opened my purse and pulled out a bulked folio. "As the family had agreed -- Your payment."

He looked at me curiously but he didn't hesitate to partake of the lump sum. "That answer's one question. Thanks."

I arched my brow, "And the other?"

"Wouldn't be doin' m'job if I din't ask the burning query, love. How'd it feel?"

I smiled charitably, "Goodnight Mr. Weasley - I'll call myself a taxi, thank you."

As I turned, he seized my wrist. "Tut-tut, Padma. I promised to take you home." Bill tugged and brought me closer to him. From the corner of my mouth of exhaled the puff of smoke, then stubbed my ciggy out. He did his homework… he played to my… needs. But whether it was a need for female company or male company in my bed tonight, remained to be seen.

"So you did." I turned completely to face him and to allow my fingers to trail down his chest. "I have another engagement but if you wait…" As boys do when they know there may be a possibility of something 'fun' in the works… He smiled and nodded - almost too excitably. Amateur.

It was an added bonus that Bill Weasley was quite the attractive bad boy if ever I saw one. At least something will come out of this excursion. As Bill left, I glanced into the foyer and rested my gaze on her.

Thanks to Bill -- she was the reason for my being here. Squaring my shoulders I entered the hospital foyer. I passed the main waiting area where her so-called friends were. There was the gaunt looking young man with a mass of unruly dark locks that could have played off being a former addict of some sort. And an Asian woman that screamed: _hi my profession is questionable!_ Even the thought of sleeping with her would give any **normal** person a venereal disease. My gaze skimmed the pair; the man had his head rested on the woman's lap and then gave pause on to Fleur.

She stood surrounded by the attending medical staff. Sensing that I needed to be a part of the conversation, I strode to the group.

"…Ms. DeLacour, first off let me offer my condolences in regards to your--"

In a guttural purr that sent unsolicited shudders along the course of my spine, Fleur silenced the head physician.

"They 'ave been noted, signore…" Her haunting silver pools gave fair warning. "You are questioning the invoice, oui? We shall settle this now…"

"--What my client means to say, gentlemen," Accordingly, they looked at me with questioning glances, "Of course, pardon the intrusion,"

I paused, holding a finger aloft towards the good doctors and turned to whisper to Fleur -- the scent of jasmine met my nostrils, my GOD, I had forgotten, "I'll handle this, get yourself and your friends some sustenance…I'll be done shortly."

Grudgingly she complied.

"Gentlemen," I began, "I represent the interests of the DeLacour Family. Padma Patil, from Slytherin & Malfoy." I could tell by the whispered awe, they knew the extent of what my being here meant. It came with the territory. My breed was already infamous, but when coupled with working for the aforementioned company... we become formidable sharks.

"Now, the matter of the account will be handled under pseudo, following the proper backstopping of the paper trail, of course. You'll get our business, not to worry – perhaps even a generous donation to this... _fine_ establishment. But as an added safety net, you must insure that all your records in regards to the DeLacour are…conveniently lost?" I smiled as I received the collective nod, "Fabulous. I'm so glad we see eye to eye."

As that business concluded, my eyes immediately wandered the expanse. I found her with her friends; Fleur seemed to have developed closeness with the pair. Her fingers ran through the man's hair as her eyes locked with the Asian; they spoke quietly.

When she rose to her feet, I made my excuse. Light of foot, I followed her to the cafeteria. I watched her for while. Since it was a quite some time after mid-day the cafeteria was sparsely loitered with personnel. I moved behind her.

"…Egg salad wrap, no?"

I smiled to myself and said in said in French, just how I thought she preferred, "You remembered."

"You gave me no choice to forget."

Her reply in English brought a thoughtful tug to my brow. Fleur glanced towards the galley-hand and placed our orders as well as those of her friends. Cordially, she asked if I would like to sit with her while our orders were still in queue. It took all my self-restraint learned in my field, to quell the surge of emotion as she looked at me. Besides…I would have been a fool had I not accepted. As she led the way, I noticed a definitive change in her. The girl I knew… had been all but erased.

The woman I saw now was an alluring enigma.

She slipped into her seat and watched me. Voyeurism was a personal fetish for Fleur and as I saw, old habits die-hard. For her… I accommodated. My movements were deliberate -- I wanted to accentuate everything I was for her. I felt my heartbeat rampage in my ears. I could tell by the glint of her eyes, she was at best entertained. But I also witnessed a flicker of _interest_.

"Your English, it's improved," I stated.

Fleur didn't acknowledge the comment. But she kept her eyes on me.

"'Ow did you find me."

"We're dealing with your family." I paused, letting my foremost comment sink in and carefully chose my words, "The resources are exponential, Fleur. Tell me you didn't expect _this_ visit sooner."

Her fingers played on the tabletop -- it was the first hint of her agitation.

"Your family…"

"Sent you for, what? This… 'Ow you say…. _Damage control_? Why do you think I am 'ere." She looked away form me for a brief moment before answering **for **me, "So I can be away from that bull_shit _and give them what they wan'."

The fire in her eyes could have engulfed me if I let it. It was an impassioned, silent plea. I promptly ignored that look in her eyes.

"D'you honestly really think that?" I scoffed, "You're more egocentric than I ever gave you credit for." Softly I added, "Believe it or not... they asked me to come."

"You are right… I don' believe you." Her head tilted to the left and those silver cerulean pools that haunted me for so long, returned to browse my body. "You came for one thing -- _my family_ jus' so 'appened to give you th'ticket to me…"

_Malicious whore. But she was right._

"Then take it as you will, I don't care. But your family wants…_needs_ you back."

While her hands remained folded on the tabletop, I wanted to reach out and bridge that gap that left me lonely for so long. I dared not to, though.

"It's time for you to go home." Fleur turned her eyes away from mine; I tried a different approach. "You… You weren't the only one that lost her. We all loved Gabrie--"

Sharply, her gaze speared back to me, "It seems you are the ones that 'ave a 'ard time forgetting my sister."

It was a topic that must have still been an open wound for Fleur, because the look on her face was indescribable. And I just aggravated the wound with a healthy dose of salt; with that the conversation ended. She rose from her seat and mentioned that our orders were ready. Obediently I trailed after her, grabbed our foodstuffs and routed off. We slipped into one of the corridors leading away from the main wait area.

"Your friends are the other way," I commented off-handedly.

She nodded, "Detour."

I didn't bother to ask for explanations when I had an idea. When we neared our destination, Fleur pressed her hand to the door. As she gave a little push and paused. I rounded from her left. An attending nurse left the room and I took the opportunity to meander in. Whether Fleur disapproved - I didn't care. I was curious to see this person.

I stared down at the young woman after having rounded the medical bed. The steady droning blip of the monitor announced that the girl had a strong heartbeat.

Despite the grotesque bruise that marred her brow, she slept peacefully. Her sable colored tresses, haloed about her head; her leg was already cemented in a cast and elevated. Leaving her body, though athletically developed, prone and… _unimpressive_. The girl's lips were slightly chapped and comparatively thin to mine. Where Fleur and I could boast of our exotic heritage -- this girl… This girl was plain!

"She's…" I felt myself bristle, "…young." It was the closest thing to being cordial as I could be. Glancing back to Fleur, her face was cloaked with the dancing shadows birthed by the afternoon's light… I could not bring myself to believe that this girl could at all have won Fleur's affections.

Fleur remained detached from commenting. So after I sated my curiosity I moved from the girl's bedside. I stopped myself so that I stood but a mere inches from Fleur. Her arm brushed against my own -- I damned my coat from prohibiting me to feel her skin on mine. It was difficult to read her eyes but I knew she had been gauging my reaction and observing every move I made. She could be quite vindictive when she wanted to be.

"She's young, Fleur." I reiterated quietly.

"She's also not _like__us_, is she?" I scoffed and continued, "We both can see she's no where near _my_ caliber."

Fleur gave me one of her patented intense stares.

I smirked.

"Your old tricks are fading my love. When you flaunted your _lovers_ you would have been all over them in my presence. In this case…" I clucked my tongue upon the roof of my mouth… then looked to the bed-prone girl, "You're keeping to yourself."

Emboldened at this notion of unrequited attraction, I pulled out a business card that I had gleaned from the Hotel I was staying at. I flicked the rigid article onto the girl's bed. It landed awkwardly on the blanket that pooled at her elevated legs.

"I'm staying there." I paused long enough to pull a strand of her hair back and over her shoulder; it was enough to witness the minute tensing of her body. I couldn't help but wonder how long she allowed herself to not be touched in such a manner.

"_I've missed you_, Fleur -- I'll have your favorites ready, should you take up my offer."

That said, I pivoted on my heel and walked out of the room. I wanted her. She knew that I did. Is it fair that I put her in a position she had no choice in? Probably not…

But…

I don't play fair. Humans never play fair when they crave. It's the nature of our beasts.

As I walked from the main hub of the hospital my steps slowed. Obviously, Bill's beast screamed for him to stay. Roguishly he eyed me.

"You're still here."

He nodded, "Yeah… yeah that I am." Bill shifted his eyes towards the hospital, "D'ja get what you wanted?"

I glanced back towards the east wing with the sun brazenly keeping the occupants on one particular room hidden from view.

"I'll know later tonight."

As I wandered closer, Bill met me halfway. With the calloused pads of his digits, he tilted my head and brushed his thumb gruffly across my lips. I winced but elicited a strangled whimper.

I liked this.

He smiled, "Ahh, you're _that_ type."

I lamely tried to pull back.

"Mmm, I don't think so. Let me take you home…There's a few things we need to discuss."

"Among other things… I'm sure." I heard myself breathlessly rasp.

"As if you would expect anythin' less."

And I didn't. It seemed my inner beast was hungrier than I realized.

--

The surface of the wall was cool against my forehead. It took everything I had to stop the rush of blood ringing in my ears and the continuous pounding around my eyes that trailed to the base of my skull. After all this time, Padma knew how to twist the knife deep into me. I groped about my track-pants and felt the recognizable plastic bulge that jostled in my pocket.

After a year of migraine-related attacks, I hoped that I would have been used to it by now. But my hands shook as I twisted the preventative child-lock cap off the bottle; two off-white pills finally tumbled onto my palm.

"…I usually take water with my pills."

I tucked a lock of my hair behind my left ear and drew my gaze back towards the bed. I said that I did as well, but had none on hand.

"There's a pitcher here."

Though bed ridden, Hermione pulled her frame up and began to reach for the pitcher. I moved immediately to her side; my words slipped from me in rapid and I think nervous tension, because she looked at me in confusion. She apologetically said,

"I only had a year of French in my freshman year of college…"

I apologized quietly to the girl before continuing, "I said you should not force yourself."

I pulled the rolling tray table from her bedside and offered to help situate her body upright. She looked at me hesitantly but nodded. As soon as she was settled into her new position, I pulled back. Despite herself I felt her eyes wander briefly over my body. Where I would have normally bathed in the attention -- for her… I needed to hide. So I moved and kept moving. I began to pour two plastic cups with water and offered her half to her.

"I was not expecting you to be awake."

"I wasn't expecting to have some strange, irate woman stare at me…" Hermione paused, "Besides my pain-killers are wearing off, I need a refill anyway."

"I am so very sorry for that."

"Was she a friend of yours?"

I didn't answer.

Again I moved towards the end of her bed and saw the business card still lying at her feet. I plucked the cardstock and flipped it over. My face must have looked crestfallen because Hermione noticed.

"Is something wrong?"

I glanced up after pocketing the card and shook my head. Then, I answered her previous question. Padma was an old acquaintance from a period in my life I cared not to think about, Hermione nodded in silence and kept her eyes on me even as I move about her bed.

"You 'aven't stopped staring. Should I go?"

She blinked and looked down towards the spaghetti-like plastic IV tubing. "Sorry. I'm just trying to figure something out…"

I arched my brow. "Qui?"

"You have this _look,_ an air -- in fact you could fit with that one American girl group, the tawdry one -- You know…" Hermione began to warble out the a few lines, "_I'm tellin' you to …Loosen up my buttons…_." She looked up and embarrassedly began to pantomime, "I mean… it's not that I think you're one of them…I… I mean in a way you are, but…this isn't really getting me anywhere is it?"

I laughed. Her cheeks had gone beet… It was charming.

"But…I just thought they had incredible names -- so I just ran them through my mind… Somehow though," she continued, "None would fit you."

After a time, I answered: "Because none are it."

"What does it take then… To get the name of the person that saved my life in order to properly thank? Because I thought I did everything you asked me."

I was glad for the shadows; they gave me the coverage I needed to hide my desires. I wanted to confess to Hermione that all it took would be for her to look at me the same way I have, her. To hear my name coating her lips, to have her feel the extent of what she does to me.

"--Oh! You're awake Ms Granger! Good t'would make it easier for you to take these then."

My thoughts collapsed in on itself when the door to Hermione's room swung open to reveal her attending nurse. A cheery, robustly made woman. She and Hermione immediately engaged in chitchat. I skirted the room allowing both women to carry on. My eyes drifted occasionally to Hermione, smiling to myself as she broke into that musical laugh. To my surprise, she met my gaze more than once.

As the nurse turned to leave, she nearly collided into me.

"I'm so TERRIBLY sorry, so quiet miss, 'ad I not been in th'right mind I'd'a all but run you over."

The nurse appraised me from top to feet, "Reckon maybe even broke a few bones," she added in a mutter, "Bloody lightweight you are."

Hermione chirped, "Mm, sorry about my friend there -- Has a right nasty tendency of lurking." She paused to slurp her Jell-O treat and mumbled, "I'd introduce but…" then lifted her cradled morsel. Cheekily she grinned at me.

She was forcing my hand. I narrowed my eyes at her. Grudgingly I introduced myself ala Faux. The nurse accepted the Pseudo name and instructed me to insure that the English girl maintained her diet of soft foods and take the pills she needed to take. When the nurse finally left, I wandered towards the bed.

Hermione ravaged her treat without casting her eyes on me.

"Sneaky."

She inclined her head and lifted a shoulder, "I do what I need to… 'Rielle'."

I nodded slightly. "You don' believe that is my name?"

"If you have a hard enough time telling **me** your name, I can only imagine the line you feed to others that only know you for a few seconds."

"Touché."

As my eyes flicked towards an empty recliner and then turned back to her, she motioned me to have a seat. I eased my body into the welcoming cushions. I don't recall how long we sat in silence, trying to pry into the other's soul with our level stare but we savored the companionship.

"I've known you for more than mere seconds now… Tell me." Hermione finally murmured.

I laughed, "Since I am, quote -- your friend -- Maybe you should ask me instead of ordering me."

Hermione set her contained morsel aside, "I tried that remember? So I'm taking a different approach. Though, if you continue to insist… May I be permitted to know your name?"

I felt my lips curl into a slight smile, and then witnessed Hermione's cheeks color faintly. To her credit, she remained composed. Giving her a piece of privacy I turned my body away from her, letting one leg cross over the other. And to keep with the intimacy of the situation, I answered softly.

"Fleur. Fleur DeLacour." I cringed at the sound of my name. I hated it.

"…DeLacour?"

I cradled my chin against my palm and glanced towards Hermione. I could tell my surname tumbled through her thoughts. She held a look of recognition but didn't pursue. Hermione returned her attentions to her rubbery, half-eaten treat. For some reason… I felt compelled to explain.

I told her that I was Fleur DeLacour the sole daughter (she gave me a questioning look, but said nothing and allowed me to continue) and heiress to one of the oldest and wealthiest families in Europe. As a DeLacour, I said, you were not born into wealth. You WERE wealth. You not only had a specific type of lifestyle to live, but you also lead by example. I was the new breed of Socialite -- my examples were at best, corrupt. Time didn't exist when there were parties to throw, or even go to. The paparazzi were my playthings to be flirted with and laughed at as they tried to report the 'latest' dish. Nothing was better than knowing one of the DeLacour girls was rumored to be a lesbian who put American Socialites to shame.

If the 'Razzi ever caught a glimpse of me, it was by pure accident. I was never caught in the middle of any debauchery, because my twin was never too far to 'protect' me from any trouble I fell into.

"She was my world."

"…Is that why you took her name?"

I looked blankly at her. Her sharp mind picked up on the pseudo I went by. My sister's name, shortened. I gave my head a shake, "I took it because I was guilty and needed a reminder of why I am guilty."

"I don't understand…"

"I killed her."

Hermione's eyes were guarded. I heard myself laugh dryly… nonetheless my tale continued. Gabrielle, I stated, was the prodigal good daughter -- our parents made no qualms as to which twin they favored. But what they didn't know was that Gabrielle that towed the line in her curiosity of 'the other side'; the side I lived in. I tried to make sure she never crossed it.

"The operative word being _tried_…"

But I was too fucking high to push her away from the line she towed.

"I still cannot remember if I was even driving that day." The silence drew out and I turned to look at her and said, "But I **do **know… at least what I remember… is that I 'eld 'er. Like I 'eld you."

"You do know… that is was an accident, right?" She quietly offered.

"I like to fool myself to believe that."

Hermione's eyes were hidden. I could only guess what crossed her mind. I rose from my seat, "I think it is time for your pills oui?" The unease that settled around us was evident; I needed to change the tone of the conversation.

"Yeah I feel like my bloody bones are trying to break through my skin."

I smiled at her attempt to dissolve the awkward moment; as I prepared the proper dosages, I asked about her friends, if she heard word on them.

"Nurse Abraham mentioned that Ron -- unsurprising -- suffered minor scratches."

"Why unsurprising?"

"Boy's a bullocking tank. Broad shouldered, thick boned… thick-headed…" She quirked a smile, I chuckled, "Harry though…I think he suffered a minor concussion."

"I am sure he will be fine."

"I've no doubt -- appreciate the concern."

I returned to her side. "Three pills, the red you need to take last."

"Thanks…" Compliantly, she did as told.

I should have been more aware of my body's movements. Even better still I should have stepped back. But… my hand reached out lifting the veil of her hair from her face. My body… basically betrayed me when I needed it most. As my fingers lingered over her cheek, Hermione pulled back casually. I think I would have preferred another slap to my face than that. My arm slinked back to my side.

"I'm not your sister."

"Mm… true -- we look nothing alike." I delivered with a smirk.

"Fleur…"

The moment I wanted, the moment I waited for -- but it wasn't the way I imagined it to be. The sound of my name from her lips was foreign. Uninviting.

"I can't replace her."

"Did you really think you could?"

She shook her head, "…The point I'm trying to get out -- is that your affections for me are misguided--"

I echoed her word quietly in my mind. Hermione really believed that my loss was being transferred on to her. Were it only that simple.

"--That night we" she illustrated with her hands, I got the gist and told her to go on.

"… I was confused; tonight you just cleared things up for me. It was the heat of the moment, it was… a need that… that you filled at **that** time for me -- and I assume for you too. But even beyond that…" Hermione desperately mopped her face with both hands and then combed her fingers through her hair, "…I don't think…I'm not… I'm not for you; at least not in the way you want me to be. I can be in other ways… I just…"

The funny thing about love is that it strikes you when you least expect it and can be a wonderful tailspin. But there is no guide, no amount of experience to remind you… how much you'll hurt, if it's only a one-way street. As I had gone silent Hermione called my name with concern blanketing her voice. That was sweet of her. I snapped to.

"I was just thinking…"

"Of?"

"How I could tell headquarters that I lost one."

Thankfully, she laughed.

"Was it my recruiting methods?"

She blushed, "…Trust me, the method was exceptional."

I dipped my head and peppered it with a smile, "Merci."

"You know…"

In a mild haze I glanced up.

"I've been told I give incredible massages. Why don't you come here, let me see what I can do to help."

"Pardonne moi?"

I must have not noticed that I had lifted my spectacles to the top of my head or that my fingers were thrumming against my temples trying to quell the irritation building behind my eyes. I pulled my hand from my face and looked at my fingers. With a curt 'no thanks' from my lips I told her that I didn't think it would be a good idea.

"_I should go_. I think it is time you rest, mm? It 'as been a long day for you."

Hermione shifted and looked to me as if she was upset at the notion. I'm sure it was all in my mind.

"So..."

"Oui?"

"Will you come by again?"

The question pulled a knot to my brow. She shrugged casually.

"This" Hermione waved a hand over her elevated leg, "sort of put a damper on our backpacking plans. I think we can assume that I'll be here for a spell… and I sort of need more than just testosterone surrounding me…"

"And you wan' me around?"

"You're surprised."

Torn would have been the more appropriate description. The line had been drawn and I wasn't sure how deal with this just yet. I hadn't been used to being told 'no'. Like I didn't know how to end a pursuit -- because I've never been the pursuer. Then again… I hadn't been in love before.

People have said that it's better to have love and lost than never to have loved before.

Whoever said that… was a moron.

I was more the idiot when I said that I would be here. Whenever she wanted, whatever she needed… I would be the one to give it to her. And when Hermione's lips slipped into that familiar unguarded smile -- I was reminded why I would risk my sanity.

For a few minutes longer we talked.

For a few minutes longer, I saw how much she taunted me physically. I am, after all still a woman and one who has needs. That is a part of me that I've tried to keep under wraps, but as Cho knew from the beginning… I'm an incredibly sexual creature. It's amazing that I've staved off that part of me for as long as I did around Hermione.

As I looked at Hermione my mind was thrown back to that night. I all but gave myself to her. But I saw nothing in her eyes that would welcome that part of me again. I rose from my seat at one point and slipped my left hand into my pant-pocket.

I felt the sharp edge of the business card. _Padma_.

The door swung open and her friend, Ron I believe his name to be, walked in -- effectively putting a pause to our conversation. Relief spread across his freckled face. From the semi-darkened corner of the room, I saw them reunite. There was a certain intimacy they shared.

He held her.

Her fingers lingered over the back of his hand.

They talked in hushed tones.

It wasn't until I moved from my hiding place that the both broke from the quiet reverie that they realized I was still there. Ron swallowed whatever he was eating. He began to look a little pale.

"Je suis de sole. I was jus' 'eading out."

Hermione began to make the introductions but was cut off by her friend.

A sort of gurgling sound erupted from the back of his throat. I assume it was his way of saying hello. I wasn't sure but I fed him a curt smile nonetheless.

"So… same time tomorrow?" she asked hopefully.

I shrugged my shoulders and nodded in a non-committal manner. She beamed a smile in return… I could learn to loathe that smile. As I turned to exit, I heard their voices once more lock in that familiar banter they shared.

Awful beast, jealousy. It can turn you into a monster before you least expect.

I slipped through the hallway of the hospital, hoping to go unnoticed, but the whispers between the staring began. I kept to the hope that the unwanted circus of my 'other life' could be kept at bay long enough for me to run again.

Don't approach me.

Keep my head lowered.

Don't look at anyone.

I made it to the waiting lounge. Then the supportive frames of both Neville and Cho crowded against me… but even as they couldn't block the static droning of the television.

_"…site of a single car accident. Reports indicate both passengers seated in the front portion of the sedan, fare well. The third is still in a guarded condition at this time. But the interesting part of this tale is the good Samaritans whom aided the injured passengers…that lead to our Entertainment segue, Gianna? I have to say, odd bedfellows, that…"_

_"Not really Carlo. The Entertainment industry thrives on spotlight gossip. This is as juicy as they get. Through a confirmed contact a certain platinum haired Heiress -- who we've only had glimpses of in the past -- has FINALLY come out of hiding… only to serve as the Heroine…"_

_"-- Funny you should use that term."_

_"Isn't it though?… But back on topic… she's the one that pulled these Tourists from England out of the wreck --"_

_"Turning a new leaf is she? Ahhh you're making a face Gianna, don't believe it?"_

_"If rumors are true, Fleur DeLacour was so heavy into her celebrity and its vices --"_

_"Drugs, sex and the proverbial American phrase 'Rock and Roll'?"_

_"Yes -- that instances like these are to be taken with a grain of salt. For all we know, this is a publicity stunt for her to get back in the Limelight."_

_"And what of the DeLacours themselves? It must be embarrassing to have the blackest of sheep running amok."_

_"According to my contact -- she's refused any and all communiqué…"_

I tuned out the rest of the so-called newscast and hissed my urgency to get out of there. My friends were expressing their concern… Like the TV they were nothing more than white noise. When I didn't respond, their white noise chatter slowed to a halt. They looked to me expectantly. As I raised my glance to them, they understood.

In the confines of the SUV, my body remained rigid. The silence of the cab was broken when Cho stated she would take me where I wanted to go. Neville gave me one of his brotherly smiles, but it looked more consolatory than anything…

After some minutes, my lips moved. I answered simply with the address I memorized…

--

"Hello?… This is a surprise. Not busy at all. I am. Just let me get decent…"

My hand covered the receiver as I mouthed my instructions towards the help…

I watched the room-help gather the distressed beddings that lay in a pool at the bed's feet. Then I motioned towards one of the maids. She nodded and took up the trash from one of the complimentary steel bins.

I laughed when she grimaced at the contents of the bin. "What. Better to be safe than sorry…"

They scurried out muttering under their breath after all was done. I scoffed. "As if they've never seen a bin full of rubbers before."

At least it was a quick session – hardly satisfying - but it was something to pass the time until…

The thought flittered in and out of my mind as I returned the receiver to my ear.

"Are you alright…? I'm sorry…. That was a silly question… Of course, of course. See you soon."

I settled the handset onto its base once more and with the pads of my fingers traced the cresting smile dressing my lips. I ran my fingers through my hair; still damp from the shower I took, and then glanced towards the time. With another call, this time to kitchenette… I wasn't about to go into this night without a fight.

The ringer to my suite sounded and I never felt more like an adolescent teenager than this moment. My steps were quick-paced, bringing me closer to the door. Almost excitedly, I tore the door open.

Fleur stood there, likened to a broken Porcelain doll. But only one thing danced in my thoughts.

_She chose me…_

_--_

_To those few that actually like this piece – wow. And those same few who've taken the time to offer your critiques/comments, thank you – it makes a person want to continue to share :) As for the bombastic prose -- consider it cut. Or cut down. _

_This chapter is long, I do apologize. It's to make up for lost time. Don't give up on our ladies… Till next time._


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